Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Fates Beyond Shadow
by Starry's Light
Summary: Most indubitably, Llana has suffered a long time without her "Gerald" by her side - but quietly she reminisces and accepts that life has changed. She is not who she thought she was; the same can be said of all of her friends. Now that Tim has let her into his world, she can see the shadows he has scarred it with. And thus she goes on: to heal, because that is what she is, does...
1. Ashes to Ashes

**Hello! Welcome to the final installment in a pokemon tale I've been working on for... would it be three years now? My name is Starry's Light, but everyone calls me Starry... so. If you're interested in the story, I'll try my best to fill in parts of what happened in the last two so you don't have to go through and read them... it's a skill I've been working on for awhile now, eheh. Feel free to tell me if I'm not doing well! I don't bite ^^  
But Tim does. You'll have to see for yourself if you like him. XD**

 **The main character is a girl named Llana, just so you know. Chapter 0 is a refresher for the events of the last story, more or less, or the important things (and isn't in Llana's point of view. If not specified, it's Llana. Just so you know.)**

 **So, without further ado, welcome to Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Fates Beyond Shadow.**

 _0: Remembrance_

 _They were quiet, those two. They always were on days like these. The days when the clouds roamed by like great, fluffy beasts, their feet beats on the ground, pat pat pat, slaughtering falls of rain perhaps to be lost in the wind. It wasn't because they were sad folk, these. It was more of a ritual, now that days have come and gone, and he has died._

 _Old, wizened eyes rose from the fondling of the sky. His breath was a rasp nearly lost by the hands of the breeze, whispering, tearing across his old, wizened face. Whiskers—whitish wisps of mustache hung to his old, wizened figure, clumping around where the green scales ended. His leafy tail bristled in anger sometimes, but now it lay limp to the hands of the sky around him. Snivy, they called him a snivy. An old, wizened snivy._

" _Stella," he rumbled, "is she doing alright? Llana, I mean..." he drew off again._

 _His niece. Another snivy. A little snivy. Tiny body, tiny eyes, bright green and pale scales dotting her figure; she did not have a fluffy mustache perched upon her lips: good riddance._

 _The creature by his side snickered quietly. She was very fluffy too, fluffy and white, not unlike her companion. Only she walked on her paws and her bright purple eyes shone with the breadth of life, unlike he. "Oh, yes, she's not dead just yet," was her cheery reply. Lips furled into a little smirk, a claw crawling up her snout, practically a dagger all on its own. "I'm very proud of her, Gerald; aren't you proud of her, Gerald? I'm sure you know how much she missed you when you so..." Eyes dangerously flashed. "Departed... Gerald."_

" _Shut up, you old hag." A grim little grin etched its way over tattered lips. A tattered bridge, hopeless to be held much longer. "Yes, I miss her. She's... our daughter, you would think, yes? We raised her in place of that dumb family of hers." His smirk wouldn't disappear; he was calling his sister and her husband "dumb" and oh, would that smirk not disappear._

" _I suppose you could say that." Stella snorted. "Weirdo._

" _But that is not the point." Each cleared their throats nigh in unison; it caused the elder snivy to stiffen in place and glare. "The point, Gerald, is that she is all on her own, now, without even a smidgen of either of us to watch out for her. That dastard Tim boy thinks he so likes her; that best friend of hers, Zoey, so clings to her. And Elijah, that boy she so loved, is dead like you." And so she smiled; it was a grim smile matching that of the Gerald she so cared for._

 _His attempted to strengthen; he hated copy-meowths. "I know that is not the point, Stella. I know she may very well be in danger at any time. Tim's claws are perhaps longer than the poor thing's face; that boyfriend of hers, or whatever's, gone rotting; and poor old Zoey is just a wee girl. Weaker than her, even. If you ask me, we should toss in our play already."_

" _Tim wants to change for her, Gerald."_

" _I think he should go get a life and get his bloody hands off my daughter."_

" _Of course, Ger—"_

" _And I mean literally bloody! Who hasn't he killed? He killed Elijah he killed Llana's other friends he wants to kill Zoey. He wants Llana all to himself."_

 _His grim little grin shook and he glared out toward the clouds, because it was of course their fault that Llana's bright little childish grin had worn away to the adult beneath. Their fault Llana had to put up with this load of hooligans._

 _Stella sighed. "We will do our best to watch over her, Gerald. But she is growing up now... it's not completely in our hands any longer..."_

 _"I know..." His figure sagged with each word, a sigh stitched into his soul. And another long, drawn-out sigh. His eyes showed off his years, flaunted them._

 _A rueful, almost prideful, little grin caressed her muzzle. "But she'll try her best. You know she's got what's best at heart; she's got us at heart..."_

 _His lousy grin mimicked hers. She snorted._

" _Oh, but her life is on fire, Stella. Who knows when she'll burn down..."_

 _He tried and failed to hide the tiniest of sniffles._

Chapter 1: Ashes to Ashes

"I promise, Llana, we're almost there."

His words like slime fell down my throat, a hefty waterfall until its conglomeration, like a seed—a dead seed—a stone—in the pit of my stomach. They rattle within me every once in awhile; I don't really like the thought of trusting them. It's such a balmy taste, but a rancid, rancid whisper inside. I want to shut the doors and close them off: but only he knows the way back home from here.

And _he_ is _Tim_. And Tim killed. He killed a lot. He set my home on fire for the purpose to kill. He set it on fire while I was away, _just_ to be sure I couldn't be there and I wouldn't be killed too. He wanted to burn them all, all of my friends... kill them. but what was it he told me on those dirty lips of his?

What was it again?

Does he want to save them, now? Does he want to be good, now? Does he want _me_ , now? Is he bobbing apples for my trust?

What am I to think?

My heart a thick skull in my chest: it throbs, it throbs, but sometimes I wonder if it's still really there. I want Zoey. I can trust Zoey. Oh, wait, perhaps she's _dead now_ because Tim set her on _fire._

The thought sends a scream to my lips. I try to catch it before it flies, hands slapped across my cheeks and holding or trying to hold those wordless feelings in, but of course it won't stay. I ignore it for now. Tim doesn't; he stiffens. I've never seen him stiffen before.

Tall. Great, dark streaks of fur all across his body. Dark, crushed blue eyes more black than anything. Usually he skulks along with some form of wood patched in his fingers, being a timburr: now is not that time. He's clasped my hand to his and he's run faster than I've ever seen him go prior, so that maybe we can get home before it is all but. The ground runs like ink beneath me; I can hardly stand upon it, but if I don't move, then I won't see Zoey again. And I don't know much, but I do know that I want to see Zoey.

It is not a want now but simply a need.

And that I can smell before I can see. Somewhat hunched, it's the stench of burning that catches in my lung, punches me past the heart. I wonder, ominously: are any of them still alive?—did any of them stand a chance in the first place? But—but that is ridiculous. Someone had to live... Tim didn't set the fire that long ago. There should be a chance in the least to free—to free—someone.

Zoey's body is lacerated in water. It's a natural sort of—she won't die. She won't die, right? I don't like the thought and I stare up at Tim's grim face, only there are no answers that spell out who lives and who doesn't. Maybe nobody will be hurt... maybe... maybe. They're smart. And the ones who aren't particular in that stressed area will be protected by the others. Perhaps in particular Zoey isn't _smart_ ; but Espa is, and Umbre is, and Vivi as well. And they're my friends... and they wouldn't let such a mark bequeath them of their lives, passed down farther and farther away...

Can legendary entities even die? Vivi—she's... not normal. She's not a lavender feline—Espa—or one of a blacker sheen—Umbre. No eeveeloution. No snivy. Not an oshawott—Zoey. No timburr, either... Can she even die? And thus, if she can't, will Kyo and F be saved as well? Or are they just as susceptible to—to—to—

I decide against looking at Tim.

After the shower of smoke comes lungfuls of it, the air marinated just in loads of charred stench, wafting and wafting in layers through the sky. Just behind curtains of filthy gray comes the peak: red mountains soaring just so higher than their precedent of mist: but it's not a mystical enchantment of any sort. My mouth is sour from the sucking heat already. Tim's fingers squeeze mine; a piece of me wishes to release from him but knows it would be plain and simple suicide for all of them to leave his side; as well he will not release of me. I fear in bursts he will never let go.

It's irrational but what if it's true? No... no. Slow swallow. If I want to save any of them, I must trust him: even just for a moment. Now I know he did not lie about setting our home—our Paradise—on fire. Now I know he truly did raise it to flame, and now it's burning, and for all I know, they are burning with it. And thus we much end such a thing. Tim thinks with his assistance I will... "find the willpower within to end the flame." Apparently this is how he started it.

How I wish things were so simple. But then again, perchance they really are.

And again, there they leap: flame, flame, flame. It presses to my heart, soaks me in that choking smell, squeezes escapes from my lungs and in fits makes it really feel like I will die soon. But I can't die, either. If I die, then they're all over as it is. Or are they? I don't know. Tim caused the fire; he speaks in tongues that say if he brought it then I may stop it. It's because of... who we are, isn't it...

Now that I know I'm... "light," and he's "dark." In a... simplified case of sorts. Because he can cause fires and snowstorms and black, inky darkness to seek hearts without home. And supposedly I flicker to life in just the opposite.

Scared from these thoughts, I find myself inching into place behind his furry side, hiding where it's safe and warm, but not burning, beyond him. I loathe myself for it.

Words spill from his deep and dark tone, scattered through the smoke and searching for me:

"I'll find Zoey."

"A-Ah!" Immediate digression. She—she's my best friend, Tim; I'm terrified as it is of letting her fall into—

His cough breaks me off my crown of thoughts. "I will find Zoey." His lip, in a spark of my sight, twitches. "If I do not return with her alive... well. I caused this fire, and because it is from my own sown power, you could always jump into it and... end yourself. Regular flame could not accomplish such, but..."

His head is hanging. He doesn't like this. He doesn't want to—to lose me.

It's the only truth of his I know. He's saved me from me saving my friends and nearly ending myself in the process more than the number of fingers on my hand, my scaly green hand. And thus in this I can trust him, and I let him go into the burls of flames that roar. It is only now as the wakes of sound leech into me.

 _buuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..._

Ceaseless. Full. Stuffing. Void. Null and null and null: void. It is empty and so... and so am I in this placing. I try to convince myself that Zoey will be alright in Tim's not as bloodied red fingers as they were prior and scramble myself through a leaping gap of blinding scarlet. Guiding webs of light yellowish-white trace me as I arc through; it will protect me to a point. Just as it had in the snowstorm. Only... use it sparingly.

His powers are much more... deafening than mine.

 _BUUUUuuuuuurrrrrRRRrr..._

"Ghh!" Shuffling my head side to side, my clipped whisper breaks free, and I dash from precipice to precipice on broiled, charred scars of land. Ugly little seeds of brown, of grass, like eyes, gouge me when I move. But they're not important, because as I run and think to myself all of these scary little thoughts like seeds that sprout into me it's when my head smacks into a stray tree branch within the flames and I glance as fear squeezes me toward the small hollow in the tree Espa and Umbre sometimes sleep in togeth—

Empty.

A new sense of calm overcomes me, a blanket tossed fully over my head. I'm dunked in a brief and beautiful sense of peace. They're okay... they're okay.. they're okay... The words don't feel real enough no matter how much I whisper them to myself so it's all I can do to think about my legs and moving them. Moving them far, far away from here, because they're not here. They're... somewhere safer—I don't like that as much but it's a reassurance that I have. Calmly I think betwixt breaths, talk to myself betwixt steps, try my very best to convince myself that I can and will go on. It begins to work.

Just on and on... on and on again—that's it, Llana... breathe, breathe. My eyes, large and auburn, like acorns or of such ilk, hungrily stretch across the burning as my fingers twist around the flames that engulf me. But I don't feel them; he knew I wouldn't; I knew I wouldn't, somewhere. Twisting pathways offer enough space to squeeze without quite sapping myself of my... power, if it be.

Small steps. Hops. Jumps. I crash into bits of bracken anyways. Still... I'm... I'm working. I'm not broken. Tim is going to save Zoey, he said so himself. It gets me to move on from the past of a last step, gets me to hop or try to above charred bits of land, until it's clear that my friends have all but disappeared into the final rays of—

 _Kff, kff, kffkff,kff. KFFffff!_

Who is that? I jolt, stumble through a wave of flame and nearly ram myself into the skeleton of what I believe was once a poor tree. Stars shoot across my vision; I must ignore them if I am to find the black-stained lips of the one who called for me... Smoke, smoke, smoke; when I wave my arms in front of me I look foolish but determined, determined to catch—that sliver.

"JEN!" She can't hear me. "JEENNNN?" Is she turning? "JEN! JEENNNN! JE-JEENNNNN!" Finally.

She tries to whisper past her hacking black rasp, through the blots of blood in her rusty maw: I hold up a hand, point toward my ears, nod. It's fine, it's fine. I doubt she understands what I was trying to tell her; even I'm not sure. But I shove fingers through hands and hands of heat grabbing for my life essence; only they cannot quite touch me, a breadth apart from me. Glittering little strands protect me, for however long such may last.

 _Tmp... tmp... tmp._

Past the rugged stones, past the dried riverbed, don't focus on the tunnel of swallowing flames, out, out, out. My hand meets one scarred of light blue scales in midair and we each cry out to the world. My mind is crying, I did it, I did it. Jen's bright amber gaze feverishly streaks mine and I search over hers.

Light blue, cottony blue. Soft, sweet. Her thick head and thick snout glistens of sweat, her yellow underbelly trampled like daisies by children: her eyes stand unwavering, her silvery braids tucked behind a shoulder and hardly burnt, because of course she had to protect her hair. Jen the bagon, safe and sound. All accounted for. Any wounds from prior have already begun their rather quick healing process—little dragons are hasty with their layers of skin.

Deep breaths for a moment. We're trapped within a pocket of clearing, one I presume once held a small pond, for the flames have yet to try this just-slightly-moist earth that trembles beneath our feet. Hands entwined, neither of us dare let go. Jen whispers, like she is afraid to speak too loudly, that if she does I'll blow away: "You... You're here? I-I get why you're okay, but you're here? You're okay?"

"Um. Yes. Tim led me." She winces; I thrust my head back and forth; now is not the time to situate with fear. He's helping... at least for now. "I'm here. And you're he—where's Roland?" Only the boy she's bored moon-eyes into, the boy I'm sure would not leave her to die in a fire, whether she's dragon and he's grass like me or no.

"It's not a bad reason! He didn't just ditch or anything; the fire was closing in, I told him to go through the little pocket left, he yelled at me, I told him my burns would get better, I tried to shove him, I yelled more, I tried to kick him: he left. He's... he's safe. He's okay."

Jen's voice quivers, no matter what words ensue. Mine feels strangely powerful in comparison; though it's just soft and this awkward sort of royal accent mixed in.

I draw my gaze into hers again. "Roland's okay?"

Flash of green. Squinted, brownish face. Spines on his back. Tough, at least he thinks so. Chespin.

"Roland's okay." She offers a brusque nod. Thick head rolls over her hefty neck. Smaller nod follows.

We sigh, just quietly, together, and her whispers go rapid: "A-Are you gonna do the thing you did earlier? Wi-With the light, and the flashing, and the—the we-don't-burn? I-I'm okay, I mean, I am a... dragonet..."

"No, no, I don't want you to be burned again." I grit my teeth a bit. "I'd... rather not have it that way."

And with my affirmation, the sparkling vines of light come crawling, threading unto me, spreading unto her. Silvery braids spring back indignantly by the brush of its crawl, though it eventually smooths. I'm not sure if it's moved with my own will before. Usually I have to run into... Tim's devices first.

With a push, we heave through the fire: tunnel, burning, stench, smoke, heat trailing, whispering, telling, demanding me to come back but it's too late because we're already out, and Jen's not burnt this time.

She has to yell to be heard.

"KYO DIDN'T WANNA RUN! VIVI WOULDN'T LEAVE HIM!"

I wince over this new smell, one that squeezes my throat and reminds me of wet, soggy soil after withering, relentless rain. If only it would rain now—but can this kind of fire be swamped by anything besides myself or perhaps Tim's intervention? I'm not... strong enough to stop this fire. Here I am, gasping from one little excursion with Jen.

"I'LL SHOW YOU!" she goes on. So I nod beneath layers of unending sound, the fire and the coughing and the frantic screech of feet on bracken, and we shove ourselves past burly bits of smoke that may look strong but are soon forgotten behind us. I can't hear myself whispering to myself their names. A part of me wonders if that's a good thing.

Trample and trample over subtle hills and stones, kicking past each gentle, muddy release of stream—the fact that there are bits of water, and the fact that Jen's okay, allows me the faint ease of breath that it wasn't so long ago.

We nearly kick a cream face on our stumble along. It takes the entirety of a full moment for my throat to go sour and the words to die as I pluck F the victini into my arms and begin to tremble. She yowls in my ear that she's not dead, but thanks anyways. It's not until her fuzzy red fingers find assurance in mine that I allow us—now our little trio—to search again for the missing Kyo.

He's... near and dear, but yet... I suppose it would be... off. His thoughts are... off. Ripped from orbit and encircling, slowly, his mind: disconnected, disgruntled. A majestic body wraps his thoughts into coherent, shining form: radiant red-and-blue hair and strong quadrupedal structure and creamy fur and brilliant blue eyes: but merely an empty package of keldeo... or so it has been. Vivi follows him quite vividly, her green shadow like a covering for him: nurturing in a sweet and lover-type sort, a worrying one where she wishes when she sleeps at night for him to return, and the virizion, because it is how she is, must continue her efforts until his discombobulated shell breaks or she does trying.

If Jen tells me these friends have lost themselves within the flames... It matters not if Kyo's mind wasn't strong enough to sense danger! It matters not if he tossed their lives in! I believe against their... against their... burning. Burning; no; no. Creatures of old legend like F so calls she and them; so we know, so we know. The smirk by my ear offers some form of support.

Her bright orangey-red hands address swirling admixtures about us: F for fire.

Plucking, fingers tug and pulse us through yet another torrent, Jen coughing rapidly in one moment and silenced by those yellowy waves in the next. Frames of time clip past my sight: black and color in my blinking of a headache that's coming and going. The sound that will not leave me unstained sets me upon edge; it's here as the figures within begin to form. Each of their kindly-sculpted bodies and their wiser, older gazes from a time long-past.

I try to wave and F trips over me. We splutter into a dirty pool of must, Jen's thick body cradling us from above. Someone or another cries and somebody else bites down, bites hard: another high-pitched and girly shriek as we each try in our best form to calm ourselves.

My hands shift in front of my face, shielding in a form to see past this brightness. Rough-hewn wood comes in contact. Throat runs dry, a river in this storm of ours. Of course there's a fallen tree, piece of debris—whatever it is. As my fingers shift, a variety of materials connect beneath.

Under my breath, I mouth it: thin twigs, bark, leaves, a strange velvety substance, something half-melted half-cool and slick, what I presume is a strip of a fluid—water? And fur of course—fur?— _fur_?—what kind of fur?—color? Thick. Coarse. Gray. Handfuls and handfuls of gray.

Some part of me manages to swallow past the thought. My head aches a tiny bit. Breathe, breathe; Jen lifts her haunches from my spine, F shoulders herself aside, I tremble and try to stand and ultimately kiss the dirt again.

"Sometimes I find it hilarious that, like, she's the gawsh-durned one who's, like, our savior or whatever," happily comments F, "but, like, then the sky splits open and a bunch of gawshing light stuffs into bodies and we're saved or whatever. So savior works in the end." She spits into a flicker of flame that doesn't go out and caws: "GAAWSH!"

Jen nervously twitches beside her. Her lips move and she shakes her head, trembling voice steady to rise. "I think it's kind of cool."

"WHAH?"

"I SAID, I THINK IT'S KIND OF COOL!"

"YOU'RE SPEAKIN' ON MY, LIKE, BLIND SIDE!"

"WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH HEARING?"

"I DUNNO!"

"SO YOU CAN HEAR ME!"

"WHAT?"

Wisely the bagon recedes from conversation. Our pairs of eyes flicker again: F's sky blue, Jen's burning amber, my brown. They lead in twisting paths toward the shack of storm our other friends have come cornered toward: we raise our hands, F yells enough to spit blood, we have yet to be seen. I croak from my position in the earth; each time I sneeze I only grow stuffier.

With my gaze burning and their throats rasping, it's a strange tipping conversion as I roll toward one side. The world shifts and falls with me; it falls as I shake myself and I sneeze. Particles billow: but then I move and they stick to my scales and somehow I don't gag. But I want to.

 _Buuuuuuuurrrrrrrrr...BBbbbUUUuuuUUUUURRrrrrrrr... Buu—Fshhh._

A strange conglomeration of tears and snot slides down a newly-wetted throat as I pant below the hush.

Sparkling, sparkling droplets of water begin their hiking from the air toward us: they splash into a welcome wave.

Slowly, slowly speed picks up and the world pitches right-side again. I can feel the tail that was bitten behind me; somehow I can't recall the past foggy moments of my life. Something aches; I shake my head; something aches even more; I groan, a soft groan. Curling pairs of fingers, too many to be just Jen and just F, so it feels, collapse about my tiny body and drag me into open skies again. Smoke fills lungs and coughs rattle common like clouds... and I sway, and I tip, but someone knocks me the other way and I rise. Strangely, almost creepily, sticking bits of sneeze and sweat and even brownish tints surround me like... a glowing halo.

And as suddenly as the thoughts tie to me—slurring and slowly as they fall—the _thmp_ of what must be my heart and what must be great love slam though my chest all in one moment. Strips of droplets coat me, her fur whips into me, and finally that great wave of relief falls short of a downpour.

I'm sobbing; she's sobbing; it's an understatement to think everyone's tears have begun. Simply waiting in their tiny cracks, waiting for the joy to seep in again. My head hurts, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters, I'm quietly stroking and holding the fluffy white head stuffed into my chest beneath the crook of my neck, and her arms are very tight, tighter than mine could ever try to be.

Words stem and finally ebb—then they spring into an unending flow. Someone says it first, the magic word—Zoey—but I'm not sure if she's confirming herself or if those are my lopsided, embarrassing cries. I think they're mine; her voice is louder and happier. Because she's Zoey.

It forms and burbles, coming out like: "Hi, Zoey," shaking and creaking, ripping itself open from within. Her shivering body has never held me this tightly; it's a warm feeling coating itself around me.

Her croak follows—"D-Don't say my name like that... don't say it like you never thought I was gonna show up... cuz-c-cuz I'm always gonna show up, Llana... cuz I can't stay 'way... mm—mm-hmm?"

Someone tries to laugh. It might have been Vivi.

Finally the rest of the others in startling rainbow formation fan out behind me, the ones I didn't see, the ones who didn't cross my mind just yet: Ember and Cheeka, Bay, Espa and Umbre and Espa's child—the bump in her belly has begun to noticeably show. Roland, his apologies as thick as his accent when he spots the bagon by my side. F yells at someone, joking and shrill, that it was _their fault_ , and they have to clean up _everything_.

It sounds like something she'd tell Burr, but then I remember that Burr is dead. Mina is dead as well. And Elijah... Elijah.

But the tears in my eyes are only for the dear, dear girl I hold to my heart; and her tears are all for me. And it's something we both know; and strangely through the water and the dirt, it makes me warm, and it makes me happy, happy, happy...

Eventually we find the culprits who ended the fire. Exactly who we all thought it was. In more ways than one, Mary—the sweet, shimmering swanna—and Quagsire—the jolly one who brought our beginnings together—have saved us. So we all quietly accept the obvious, that of _course_ they can also stop fires crafted in the hearts of black cavities. It simply makes sense. They are quiet when they scan over our burned but smudgy, smiley grins and wet bodies. They are quiet when they gently scour for the body of the one with the gray fur, the thick and strong corpse of a creature who built our Paradise for us.

He was a gurdurr.

Quietly from aside, Tim offers his name, his real name, one that he covered up like Quagsire and his smiling face have with his.

Gaurdio.

Eyes seek purchase in all but the thought of the body, of the name. Zoey's head dives again into me.

Everyone is silent on dry, caked lips when the gentle, gooey eyes of Quagsire's settle yet again. They're beady, set back into his face, but they twinkle like relentless stars, the ones that won't go away when it's hard to sleep at night.

"Mmmmmh... so I guess this mmmaaaay be obvious, but I suppose it's time we leave here, eh? This ain't the only fire this land's ever seen. Mmm-mmm..." His gaze draws languidly into the face of the timburr who tossed himself aside, eyes glazed. His features harden in turn; he has nothing to say; he sighs and nods, just subtly.

And Quagsire nods too. "We should go find a place to keep ourselves first. You poor things look about ready to fall over. Hmmmn..."

And on this note, he sets off.

And so we follow, every last one of us.

 **If you were wondering, that's around as long as the chapters in this story get. XD Usually they're... well, shorter, but I am trying to bring back pieces and such of the first and second stories... heh. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me, and this has been the first chapter of PMD3. :3 Thank you.**

 **Zoey: I say hi! Tell them I said hi! Please! Please! HIIIIIIII! -tons of excited waving-**


	2. On Blows the Wind

Chapter 2: On Blows the Wind

Perhaps this plan was all in all orchestrated by the great eyes and the great mind inside of Quagsire, but that matters not; either way there was no other hope for what had come. Paradise has burnt to the ground... down, down to the soil, and even the soil leaves scars of ashes and smears of char left in it. Later in time the land should heal itself—maybe if I was stronger I could accomplish such a feat myself—but for now, this is no place to stay save for the demons dreamt in one's mind at night.

Do even they deserve such a travesty to sleep in?

The dying scent of ashes clings to our pelts until the moon runs cold and glares at us above our heads: it rests now in a blanket of sky, its big, bald eye full and blaring in its condescending prowl. Now we are the effortless morsels, the bits of nothing: at least, that is, for now. When our tired tirade shuffles, feet worn to the bruises below, Zoey shuffles with me. Her fluffy white arm has stayed linked with mine since our moment of reunion, and I doubt it will come undone anytime soon.

When finally even that livid stench has left our thoughts, his blobby blue figure shifts toward a halt. Land around us lies in suitable wreckage, better than it could have been: springy grass, bits of moss, sticks of trees offering sparse shade. All that gives away the potential stain of burning memory is the timburr of sooty black fur within our ranks.

But he said... but he told me...  
So I... trust him.

He returned Zoey to me. He... saved her from... burning.

Vivi raises her poised, natural elegance. Her violet orbs, like turning stones, shift about us, through us. "Shall we lie our heads here, then, to rest?" she murmurs, just softly. One of the legendary creatures in our group, her wisdom holds the weightiest: still even her bright skies of eyes go dark, abashed by the fire.

It has yet to sink in fully upon our meager group that our home exists no longer... but... but, whispers my mind, but I have Zoey, and every—almost everyone is... okay. Alive. Is that not still amazing, in the least? And yes, yes it is.

Somehow, though it's come harder to see his figure in the blackened world of night, I feel in my heart that Quagsire is nearby, that he won't be leaving. He will most surely return to our side in the morning... at the very latest. And there is Mary—his dear swanna—he may come back to. This little valley isn't that far. Surely no.

There once was a time when we stored mystery dungeons and locations into our minds: well my head stuffs of rocks, and I only wish to rest now. And so I nearly tip into the earth right there and then, soft and springy beneath my feet, but Zoey's body will not relent; she tugs on me just gently. Her whisper is in my ear.

"I-I wanna check on Espa... She was coughing earlier, and she didn't look all the best... face sooty and stuff, y-y'know?"

Her voice calms like a river in my soul. Light and bouncy, yet an undercurrent of softness. When I offer my nod, she visibly loosens from her stiff and rigid hold.

"It's just... you've been gone for longer than you probably think..." She laughs quietly, sadly. "And then you show up with Tim outta nowhere, and there was fire—um. I was... I was..." Cough. "In a tree. I was in trees a lot after you disappeared. I'd sit in them and try to find you... and then the... fire happened... and... and the tree was... was... was..."

Tiny tears, pins in her gaze. I gently soothe her, tell her it's okay now, she's here, and I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving again. And that I love her, she's... very close to me. So the tears leave her, for she doesn't need them to comfort her... because I'm here to fill this duty, this responsibility all mine. She's my best friend—of course I'm her for her... I have to be. Always.

We wend off around the little trees and above tiny hills that soon end in a more-or-less crater where a ballooning and purple-furred feline lies. Her forked tail twitches; the ruby in her forehead twinkles. The black, fluffy shadow encircling her raises, red eyes thick and heavy.

Espa and Umbre: always the pair, always together... and soon to be a family. How... exciting might that be? The umbreon's ears flick back, and he murmurs in a voice I've never heard so soft and hushed, "You girls are okay, right?" His gaze is gentle too. "It was... a little scary. Heh. Not gonna lie. We were near the edge of the clearing, since Espa's... well, baby. You know how it is, ahaahaaa..."

She murmurs words that slur together in rest. A little black paw cups around her cheek; if I thought his gaze was soft upon us, there are no words to his looking upon his Espa.

"What's important is that we're okay... the kid's o—heeey, you wanna hear what we're gonna name it? Her? Him? Um... it?" Awkward chuckle. "Espa's trying with all her psychic whatever, but she has no idea."

Zoey nearly jumps out of her skull at the thought of it. She's quiet, still, but it's obvious how much she wants this; "Pleeaaaaaase, Ummmbreeeeeee?"

"Ha! Totally!" And he offers a soft grin. "I wanted Juniper, personally. Or... or Mangrove, I like Mangrove. But Espa hates Mangrove, and she feels like there's something off with Juniper. She wants Iuniper—like, what? Yeah. I dunno. I guess it's because..." His eyes again fall for his mate's side. "Because her parents were dumb and named her after what they wanted her to be. Y'know. Luna. Before everything changed... so she doesn't want the tot to think it has to be a leafeon...

Again his gaze goes silent. "Which I think is... really sweet of her... and a bit out of her comfort zone, naming a real live thing. So it's... fun... to see her get all soft around me. Haha... precious." And after more little words of comfort, and my attempt of confirming that no, Tim won't kidnap him again—he is changing, and he plans to end his killing—joking all betwixt these words—we leave Umbre to the loving care for his Espa.

I wonder, as Zoey gently drags me off, why they hadn't asked me of Mina and Burr.

Prior to my leave, it came to my attention that Tim... was to... kill them. Because they had left, off to start another Paradise. There would be another spot of warmth; only he... picked it clean quite tidily.

Supposedly they know by now the result... if they hadn't returned with me. Or perhaps while I was running along with Jen and F, Tim brought it to the attention of the others why they are gone. It's funny; he considered them like siblings to him... It's funny how much everything has... changed. How quiet we have come at this time, in this night. Burr and Mina were to be mates too... just like...

Jubilant Umbre has reduced himself to peppy little whispers; Zoey has lost her squeal.

Tugging upon my scaly green arm, through our sleepy eyes, my dear friend leads me off toward another corner up by some thorny bushels, where in the roots nestle a small group of our friends. It's relieving to catch glimpses of Jen recovering, Roland returned to her side; and just beyond them lies a happy little fellow, his yellow-scaled face bright despite the change of mood.

Winged and smiling, hopping in place as he offers small talk with the chespin, the dunsparce slowly raises his smiling gaze toward us. "Oh! Llana, Zoey!" calls he—Bay. His name is Bay.

Zoey nods; I smile a little; we settle beside him for a small time.

When Tim was still who he was prior—and each and every one of us tried and tried to deny it—his first kill that personally set us was Elijah. The boy I... loved. Before his fated... end. Elijah was very close to Bay; they once were best friends... And even after my next falling, when Tim's claws made way for Mina and Burr, he still musters it in him to be his bright and bubbly self—and amazingly, none of it's an... an act. He's not hiding his feelings inside of him.

We join his little chitchat, with Roland and with a raspy Jen, and Zoey and myself yawning upon them, for a time. The deaths of our dear friends gently be placed behind us—Elijah and Mina and Burr and now... Gaurdio—and we try to uphold ourselves in the fact that we're still here. Wherever Quagsire is leading, whatever words we must work out together: we're still here. Zoey's fluffy paw squeezes my small hand; she doesn't release me, and neither do I her.

I'm happy... knowing that she is here with me... for me. Perhaps it sounds like little to go off of, with the memories of the graves set and the bodies left still fresh as a wound in one's soul... but simply, I am. I am happy. And I nigh fall asleep on that wonderful, warm thought, just drinking in that savory joy. Only she softly begins to stir me again, and I must apologize for my drowsing—to which the others offer their little giggles—and again she leads me on.

"One more stop," comes her little promise, "I just wanna check on one more stop..."

And of course I follow her... of course I follow Zoey...

How could I ever cease to..?

Softly we skip, feet over feet, her fingers taut to my arm, sticking in a comfortably moist sort of way. Beneath the tipping rays of blackness, a rainbow seems to coast inside of me, inside of us: there's that in the least, no? I have Zoey, and that... that matters. My best friend Zoey...

Her grip, not too tight but relentlessly holding, slows with her feet in front of the small accumulation of valleys. Little holes and crags fill the slot: the final pocket of our party lays their heads here. As we take our little steps down, Zoey's ocean-bright gaze flickers upon me, once and again, stamped there as indelible flashes of blue. A nice little hue to think her by. Further off to the side of the others rests the scruffy bipeds of similar builds—Ember and Cheeka—pansear and panpour—each flourishing gemlike pink eyes. The smaller, Cheeka, rest her blue-haired head into the side of the fire-furred Ember, and they stay like that.

A flashing pair of dull pink orbs—the weaker of them—raises his gaze toward us; Ember edges off and allows his irises to slide shut with a soft cough.

Despite the worrisome array of soot and scratch upon him, it seems he has lived to see another dawn: one that will greet each of us soon enough. Reliving... so quite relieving.

And so, in unison, our eyes dodge for the final pair hovering in front of us.

Curled into her grassy green self like a meadow, soft purple orbs prodding our entwined figures, Vivi offers her shy wan smile. Somewhere in the shadows just by her, the creamy, tossed figure of what was once Kyo has left himself be. A buzzing sensation in my heart suggests I take myself no nearer: that in some way or another he has willed himself into a world all on his own. Somewhere inside his head, closed off so that none of us can see...

But perhaps in the cracks of his universe, if Vivi is the patient, loving soul we all see, she will sift through his pain and his joy, and he will return to her. It's been a rock-swallowing wound of a wait for each of us: this nigh-mute soul, lights knocked out of his gaze... Although without the fire our frame, we all must appear in some similar form of doused.

A final notion to the side in scarlet red pokes its great blue eyes into a wink toward us. I awkwardly wave; Zoey squeaks a little hello; F laughs quiet at both of us and shifts again in her ceaseless search for comfort on a plot of land that isn't home. None of this is. But home has burnt. Then what is home..?

My gaze inadvertently streaks for the sopping wet oshawott to my side.

Blink. Nod. We set back off again, offering little words of useless comfort for the virizion sitting and waiting for the boy she so loves. It's in the epicenter of these groups, in their trees and their hills and their edges and valleys, against that crummy trunk peeling in anguish for its end to come, where Zoey takes me, where Zoey leads me, where Zoey sleeps with me tonight. An utterly random thought cups my cheek not unkindly and whispers into my mouth that I've never slept so near her before. We always had our separate little pools of hay... in our wooden home... in our Paradise...

My scaled body never rested so close that her fur touched me like so. Like it's about to. It's the worst moment to question such a thing, to poke and prod such a wonder, but isn't in the brink of chaos the time when these thoughts get up to wander? It's foul breath on my tongue, the words that were blown into me: but I hear them with each aching step until I finally set up to fall into the grassy earth, the one cupped in soil and old knobby tree roots—

and Zoey, too.

We sort of stand there, awkward dopes. Stare at the old, creaky tree: no such replacement for where we used to live. We're both thinking about it, about all that's just happened, and it takes a moment to try and settle again.

Hearts the cages in our souls trying and failing to guide us.

I wonder idly where Tim has wandered off to. He's nearby, surely; he won't kill anyone this time, will he? He promised he wouldn't. He said so... and because this is how low we've all come, I actually believe him.

Numb blink. Admittedly these moments have left pinches in me. Many I never thought would, I suppose, come true until now. But they have...

"Llana?" Her voice, a rushed whisper like water striving to break the silence.

When I turn toward her, that little furry white face of hers nearly explodes. Dimples on her cheeks no better. "Yes, Zoey?"

"Wha-What's going on in your head right now?"

Big eyes. Big questions. A little shy, curious. Of course she is. Of course she's worried about me. My voice has gone subtle; the tiny laugh that follows she could never capture. It's weaker than my other ones.

In that accent of mine, the slightly royal one, the strangely gothic and regal one I've always had trouble getting around, I sigh. "Better thoughts than prior to finding you. You, and everyone. I'm... relieved. And worried—of course I'm worried—who isn't worried?"

Gently, she giggles. "I'm not worried!" It's this whisper of a shriek, one that only I get to hear.

"Mmmm?" I can't help it, I nearly laugh too. The thought sticks to my throat; oddly it's a pleasant hold, a flower taking root. "And why is it that you're not worried, Zoey?"

The only reason I even think of believing her, and the only reason I know I can trust these words, is by the light of the stars in her gaze.

"Because I've got Llana by my side!"

Still soft, still gentle: where did my heart go? I can't feel it throbbing—

The way that grin of hers works around toward me makes it hard for me to summon an adequate response. She's not... looking for a thanks; I am... who I am; and she's Zoey: she's my best friend. So what do I say..?

Well, I suppose nothing so trivial should flavor my murmur in return... "I'm happy my being here boosts you so, Zoey... and the feeling is very much mutual."

This smile of mine more resembles walking on sharp stones, with these pangs in my body and the storm of emotions waiting inside of me, but her own beam in return beacons me again toward what truly is important: at least, this importance for me. Because she's important. Very important to me.

As we finally settle ourselves into the hollow betwixt webs of tree root, each of us soon with a hint of pine to our bodies, her little voice pipes again: "D-D'you think Tim is watching us?"

"A-Ah. Um..." Such a question. "I'm sure from his perch—wherever that lies—he's eying me... but otherwise, it's quite the gamble." Shifting. I try to face her from our confined dark little corner. "Why do you ask?" and just as the words leave my lips she stiffens.

"Because I don't want him nearby."

Gently, gently nodding. "Yes... I understand."

"And I don't want him near you. He's... he's like..." Lips part; words gleam in the back of her head. "Somethin' bitter, somethin' gone sour in my mouth... and I don't want him nearby, and not really near you...

And her voice lowers. "Because... because...

"I dunno if I wanna share..."

My face slams into the air.

"Ah?"

"Hehh..."

And she leaves it at that, hastily scrambling for her snores.

I leave her to be; silly, strange, dear little thing.

 **Hello again! X3  
I know there's a lot of characters in the story, so maybe I should offer little words at the end for what I want you to understand by now? Kinda like a recap? Haha... sooo...**

 **Mostly just like: Zoey, Llana's best friend. They're reeeaaaaaaaally close. And Tim, who's obviously not the nicest of guys. Everyone knows that, but he's sort of a part of their group; there's varying levels of disgust about that...  
Also some of Jen's personality. A bit of a tiny, raspy flame, I see her as xD And F the funny victini. She's a fiery one.  
Espa and Umbre are mates; Espa's getting near her due date now for having her kid (egg thing?) so they're excited but worried about that...  
Maybe a thing or two on what a Kyo is and what a Vivi might be. But don't worry if nothing is sticking right now! These first few chapters should reinforce and help you get who the heck everyone is. :3 **

**Also, just because, say hi to Elijah!  
**

 **Elijah: GO AWAY**

 **Me: .w. He's been dead for two stories now, so he's just a bouquet of flowers as you can see.**


	3. Words in their Mouths, Minds off

Chapter 3: Words in their Mouths, Minds off

"...mmmmmh...hhh...m-mmhhh..!"

 _Shff!_

"Geeh—Who's—oh. Hi, Quagsire!"

"Mm-hmm! That didn't take ages, hmmhmm! Hello, Zoey; do mmmme a favor and mmmoove so I can get Llana up?"

"B-But Quagsire, she had a rough day! Can't she sleep in longer?"

"Umm. Hmm, let mmmeeee think aboouuuuut.. no."

"Awwww..!"

…

 _Shh—shhhhh—shhhhhhhfffft!_

"GEEEEP!"

I slap scaly fingers over my lips when that offending noise protrudes out of me. Because for some stupid reason I think I can shovel that sound back inside.

It takes moments and pauses of thought, for my head refuses to wake, until I can manage the sight in front of me: wiggly blue hands and a big, smirking grin capping his watery face. What did he do to—oh, oh, I see; lips pursed in the righteous frame for a blast of water to my scales. How... thoughtful... of him. I wince to myself, purse my own lips in comparison. He giggles like a child.

Awkwardly I blink, and I blink, until the world surrounding Quagsire begins its slur to reality. The sparkling of a yellow-dawn sky; little bundles of dewy grass below; shadows of entities streaked across hills and valleys; trees like soldiers saluting to the sunrise. Me. Zoey. The great orb of blue in front of me: a round face, addressed by a mild grin.

Fluffy white fingers gently tug me onto my feet again. Quagsire clears his throat, and his lumbering and deep voice follows. "Mmmmornin', Llana." Small wink in one of his eyes. "Nice t'see you've mmmade it this far. That fire was sure fun, but I think we'd all prefer soil for walking on, mmhmm?"

"H-Hehh..." My sad attempt at laughter quickly dwindles into a cough. "Ye-Yes, I rather dislike the flames. A-A bit too hot, I'd say. Now..." Oh, how do I ask this... "If I may, how did... how did the fire end its reign? I doubt much water could do much against—"

His bubbling grin, iced in a cold sense of secrecy, wards the words from my tongue. "You'll figure it out eventually, with or without mmmmmy help," is all he'll tell me. One of his big and watery hands punches, softly, in his chest; with a smile he departs shortly, calling for us to come with. I see that just further along, past our companion and another hill, lies our ragtag team of friends.

Zoey, fingers stuck to my arm just like yesterday, refuses to move until I take that first step. Once it's over she's fine with a faster trot than mine, until she's the one leading me.

As we're reaching the rainbow of fur and scales and fins is when the sooty dark creature from other shadows nigh intercepts us. Zoey casts a look just over my head; Tim's maw spreads as if to word something of importance; I try to shove on, get them out of their path of collision.

It works. I think.

In our settling of our little circles and groups, the colors proceed to mesh. Zoey won't release of my arm, so I can't move much other where than she goes, but I can sift out the purples and blues in one area, and the blacks and yellows and greens in another, and all kinds of mixtures betwixt those. One of stark red—orange?—chomps his way over the ground toward us, quartz gaze blistering.

His is silent for a moment. Then, "Cheeka's okay." Small breath. "I was worried about her, really worried... because she... you know... and she was scared, and the fire managed to catch her once she'd depleted of all that power, and all that power in one place with fire..."

The groan he refuses to let free sits in his mouth like an old, withered thing. "It was such a mess. I can hardly believe either of us... lived." Ah. Oh—oh dear, Ember—

I try to move myself closer to him and I try to tell him it's okay and try and try to hug him but he yells at me that I'd better not. So I don't. When he tries a step back so our noses aren't quite bumping, one of his pale red-furred legs winces beneath the weight. From further away, Cheeka—the one with the brighter pink eyes—summons herself to the pansear's side. Her slight face wrinkles of all sorts of memories.

She and Ember are... special. To put it... lightly. Created by psychic creatures in some vain attempt to will that much power inside the body of an individual, they created the pansear first—whose powers are of lacking ability—and next their more or less successful panpour—Cheeka. She can't even hold it in and so... she's... hurt a lot of entities in her little life.

Still, they each lived, and I found neither of them on that fateful run with Jen and F, in need or... anywhere else along an endangered path. Perhaps in pain—the toil obvious on their streaked cheeks—yet they have found their way here, and... all in all, they are... they are okay. Okay again. Safe.

Little bits of coughs, like a new trademark, ripple across our small gathering. Smoke in lungs, fire in eyes, sagging with the weight of the ashes. Ocean-blue eyes catch mine and Zoey whispers, "Well, most indubitably, Ember, it seems that you both've made it. An-And I think that's pretty great..."

"Of course you do." His curt tone suggests she go run along now, little pest.

Ember never quite liked my best friend anywhere near as much as I have. Cheeka, little grin situated upon her creamy pale lips, suggests an otherwise to his plight. But Ember truly finds her distasteful: his feelings rest in the crease of his eyebrows, this only broken by the flopping of feet toward the top of the hill in front of us.

Leaving little puddles for footprints, Quagsire draws enough attention due to that squishy charm of a sound following him around everywhere. Pairs and pairs of orbs spring toward him—perhaps we never quite had a leader, but he may as well be. The cheery grin he'd used on me now returns to him. Brightly he's turned to face the great lot of us, and softly he clears his throat; "Hrmmmm!"

Waits a moment, just to be sure he's got everyone's attention.

"I believe it has been brought to everyone's attention that Paradise haaas unfortunately burned to the ground, mmmh?" Strangely the way he pours this news into us feels comforting; perhaps it's too fast to think on the true meaning of these glinting little words. "So, hmmm! I believe we have quite a new path to take, what with the loss of everythin—"

"Yehh, yehhh," someone near me mumbles, eyes rolling. I glance off and—oh—it's Roland. His nut-brown cheeks puff with the thoughts in his head, the waiting for Quagsire to go on. "We git dat, mann; wuzz the prob'?"

Quagsire's beady black orbs contain him. "I believe that's exactly what we're looking for, friend. Hmmm... what's next, indeed?—indubitably?"

That word is such a strange fever, holds such a strange power, in our group. It propped itself out of the spouts of our beginnings and now clings to us like burrs in our pelts. In-du-bi-ta-bly.

Silence. Gazes exchange; Roland releases his wave of a sigh; Jen just about slaps him.

Someone scoots a bit loudly on the sparse soil. "Well! I meaaaaan," approaches the soft and friendly Bay tone, "whaddaya think we should do? We've got options, which is cool. We could go back to Paradise if we really wanted to and try to revive it—but like, then everyone who needs our help is more or less stuck until then... We could build another Paradise somewhere nearish...

He pauses. "Somehow I get the feeling this isn't what we're looking for."

"Mmmh! I always liked your style, Bay." Quagsire waggles his tail in the air, just for a moment, then lets it flop with an unruly _squitch!_ in the soil beside it.

"It's a little bit—a little bit, I think—like a sign of sorts; if it _all_ went tumbling down, there might be something behind it, wouldn't you say?" Vivi. Further along the back. Bright purple eyes no doubt searching the sky above us for answers hidden in plain sight.

Someone snorts beside her. F—fiery F. "Just because our home, like, died, doesn't mean we gotta go do something _noble_ or _destined_ cuz of it. Vivi, not everything's your gawwshful fantaasyyyy!" And only because it's F can she poke fun at her legend friend and not insult the palpable fact of otherwise we call Kyo.

Kyo, in the meantime, is just as silent as he has been since the flames.

"We're not really getting anywhere!" Ember, likewise, is just as cheery as he always is.

"Ye-Yeaah, tha-that's true—"

"Oh—s-sorry, Cheeka, I don't want to upset you or anything..."

"I-It's fine..."

Quagsire, atop his throne of a hill, adds, "Yeah, we really aren't. Hmmmmm...

"Wanna know what I think?"

A soft snicker. "Well, yeah! Of course we do!" cries Umbre. His voice has regained some of its bursting, fun intensity since the night before. Zoey squeals off after him; and almost, they almost sound the same. Only there are pieces missing, tiny crumbs missing. But it's magical, in a way, that such an opening can still be filled at least slightly and with such ease.

With a gallant and thoughtful _thump_ , he lands a floppy foot upon the craggy soil and shouts off for the world to hear: "Then follow me!"

It's in such a lighthearted tone and such a lighthearted notion that of course we each scramble after him, a nice leisure stroll across the hills and the valleys and the gorges just slightly pooling with water. In places the grass has begun to wear out; thick claw-slashes of alarming black mark in spots yet to be replaced. The small spruces and baby bushels suggest that something about this little world is off... that there is even _less_ here than we thought in the beginning.

Determination grits between Ember's flared teeth; worry creases over Cheeka's forehead. Vivi and F from behind surge forward in a renewal of excitement; Kyo lags even further, every step only taking him what seems like backwards to everyone around him. Bay jubilantly jumps; Umbre and Espa dash; Zoey sings just softly at the bottom of her lungs. Jen and Roland walk quietly beside us.

All of these footholds in the earth mark song and dance for our motion toward what must be, in some way, destiny. At least some small part of our hearts foster hope for the future. So maybe it won't be so bad... whatever comes, whatever comes...

A step, another step, another step— _ummph!_

Black fur, black eyes, heavy on my head where they rest themselves. The world, pitch black, itches with the particles brushing against me. I try and I try not to blink, for when I blink—just the twitch betwixt the pupils causes more of that black fur to touch me. And it itches. How it itches.

Accompanied by the all-consuming darkness is the soft background surrounding me from behind. And I cannot quite put my finger on how it was managed, but the undeniable weight of Zoey's plucking fingers has all but melted from my wrist. Deep breaths, small thoughts: what does he want this time?—what is it now? The lacquered fur in front and behind me toys with my quiet questions. Smiling in the curling of its tips, like a pesky child of a friend, the answers only come when his deep and dark—dangerous—voice turns into play.

And he takes his time.

 _Tim_

Yes. Of course I am nervous.

The way she looks at me with those shallow, stabbing glances of hers provides ample, palpable reason why. I rather prefer not to socialize with the memories of what I've done; unfortunately, I afflicted others with my sting when I made my choices, sunk my claws into their hearts. Tore. Each bloody motion paved my future; truly, it's less than fair that all I lose from the one I so adore is an innocent-eyed stare in return.

It's my own fault for letting the thing I am take hold. It wasn't such a conflict back at the time: Burr was never in danger, Mina was never in danger, Gaurdio for sure, our knight and hero, had less than a sliver of a thought to fear. We all made up a group, once: I could replace these words with "family" and not a one would defer.

Burr, the "brother;" Mina, the "sister;" Gaurdio perhaps some form of "father" in our childish eyes.

Of course, they each rest in the earth now. Eternally.

For I am a monster.

There is no other word for it, no other word than that, precisely: monster, monster, monster. _Monster_.

I suppose that the killing of one's family, alone, offers more than enough fruit for the word. But if the ones I held dearest are not the only ones pinned to their fate, if I spy eons of piling corpses when I lower myself for rest, if the storms and the lightning and the bloodcurdling shrieks, and the flash of claws in the dark and then silence: if all of this creates me, is there any word that sates my bitter hunger?

Oh; yes. Llana's so dear own "family" of sorts, her Gerald, her Stella, they labeled her with "Sweethot," labeled the possible backwards of her "Bittercold."

But when I, here, yearn for her affection and in doing so must murder, murder _more_ , I am not purely "bitter," nor am I purely "cold," but I believe something out there, something intangible, that words cannot define. Then I suppose Llana must only be the pure opposite, more than the "sweet" and the kind, flickering warmth that "hot" symbolizes. So what could that be..? I like to imagine, instead of the corpses, instead of the stench, a rainbow of beauty: the sole condiment for she.

But I don't want her to see more of my creation. She is the artist; I am only her hollow shadow, the puerile one who tries to copy her and in doing so further distorts his own hope of beauty. Sometimes I wish it was me: I could pertain with the flowing and yellow-white fur, the light of the world, joy and jubilation radiating from me. But the thought of her being black and sullen and awful sheds my thoughts. I prefer her grace to my own visualized version.

But I don't want her to see more of my creation.

Could she now be spared of everything I have started? Could I simply blind her pretty brown irises from reflecting the sight of scarred eons of land, eons of death, eons of fire and blood and thunder: can I draw her away from it all now? The grass is springy, soft in any way, because of their quagsire friend, the one who is stronger than he acts.

Beneath our feet lies rot. And it's my rot, all my rot. My fault and my darkness, my blood caking my claws; it's my death I've done unto thee, and it's my corpse that should fall.

I ask her, quietly, after even faithful Zoey has melted away:

"Could you stay?"

Her response is fast but slower, weightier than mine. And her voice is so much lighter, softer, than my own deep tang. "May I request to know why I must stay?"

Hesitate. No, that won't help her. "Yes." I practically shoved it out of my mouth: but now that I've started talking, surely the questions in her head are buzzing. Surely she wants to know why. It's obvious, blindingly obvious, but if I don't tell her I will be lying; if I tell her she will again paint me with black blood for a border. I wish it would peel; we're only reinforcing who I told her I was. Who I told her I am.

"Please tell me?" she whispers in turn. Her lips tickle my hands; if I even think to tell her, she will go mute in my grasp. I don't want her to stop talking...

Don't hesitate. That won't help her. "Because I don't want you to see it."

Gently; "See what?"

I'm hesitating. I don't want to help guide her toward it. But I'd rather tell her than be both a liar and the killer we all know I am—was—am?

My eyes roll off into the bright morning horizon, the one brimming with hope for the future.

"See what I've done to our little world."

"What did you do, Tim?" When the words reach my name, again I hesitate; again I don't want to tell her.

Tim... Tim... Tiiii _iiiiiimm_...

I try to level my voice to it's even quieter, even softer than hers, like it's her hands covering me instead. And I tell her; "I... I...

Swallow.

"Many fires... and storms—full of lightning, full of ice, full of many things... and—and earthquakes, and... monsters, too."

Quieter. She's still quieter.

"Monsters?"

"Like—Lady Munaah... and Darkie... little monsters who feed on your hope, and your friends' hope..."

I try not to think about it. I don't like thinking about it. Her eyes are covered, but I know they must be stuffed with those sharp little stares.

She doesn't ask why—she's too polite to ask why—but I can feel the question breathing and slowly, slowly sliding down my neck. It's cold. It makes my heart hurt when it pumps its blood.

I think... I think I feel bad.

 **;w; It was fun writing a section in Tim's POV (Llana's stories do that, sometimes, change POV) but I feel kinda bad now... xD Ehh. That's Tim for you.**

 **He's... special.**


	4. Fear Likes to Dwell

Chapter 4: Fear Likes to Dwell

My fingers wrap tight amongst each other. Comfort in the little green scales rubbing together. Tim's gone, by now, and I can see the wreckage for myself. Of course he didn't wish to; only there is too much for me to walk without seeing unless blind. He doesn't want to cut my eyes out. But I asked him anyways. Just to see.

Not that I would appreciate the loss of my eyeballs... I suppose the idea was stupid; all well; I can see the oshawott scrambling feebly in front of me, see the bits of stained smoke in the horizon, see shadowy bodies beneath a ruined sky. It's a gift. A privilege to look out among a shared world with others... a privilege which can be taken as well, if so must be desired.

It's strange, but I almost wish I could reach out and touch my sight, hold the intangible, just to be sure it's still there. To be sure it's real, really real. These eyeballs of mine.

Scooting back, my best friend loops her arm around mine and again dabs at her apology.

So thus I grin again, tiny bit. "It wasn't your fault, Zoey. It's not your fault that—that I had myself caught in a... detour. It wasn't so long... didn't take much time..."

"Gaaaahhh!" she goes on wailing, half yawning, mostly wailing; "that doesn't mean I want it to be a thing! Tim's a meanie for usin' his stupid Tim powers to take you whenever he wants! Ehhh, I don't like himmmm... I want Llana all to myself... hnn." Her lip quivers beneath the other, white face festering in red.

"I-I-It's fine, Zo—"

She further pouts. "Nyeehhhhh..." Her fingers drape over me in a hug, nigh stopping our progress yet again... but I like it anyways... that she feels a need to continue with her attention over little me. I-I like her attention... m-makes me feel special...

It doesn't matter if I'm a... "celestial being," or whatever whomever calls me... I love her attention...

Gravel and dirt crunches beneath each step of ours. Zoey's tripped and fallen multiple times in the ashes of a past we've never known... and I can't help it but sometimes I wonder just what that fuel once made up. Before it was burnt, before it was spent, before Tim crushed the land beneath his fingers and let it eke off into nothing. What was it before? Did it have a name? Did it smile often or did it frown? Did it like to be around people, was it shy, was it narcissistic, angry, nervous, bland, simple, happy? Was it happy... was there such a time?

Well, there it goes, _klmph_ , under my foot.

I wonder if it's happy now... in whatever future it lives in today...

Gaze drifting, I soon find my nut-brown orbs drawn to the clear—although closed—ones of Bay's. His little yellow grin proffers some form of sympathy for whatever strain has happened on my figure. Hopping, half-flying, his dunsparce self wriggles toward us and takes in tempo with our lopsided steps. Zoey trips over my tail. More times than I'd like to think of.

She's silly... and she is; whether she means or not to fall it still makes me laugh on the inside.

Bay, hapless cloud of wonder he is, proffers his smile for her, too. There's always room for a little more joy in him. Beneath a sky burrowed in black, sooty wreckage, the blue markings on his scales stand out. He looks brighter than ever, almost. Any sliver of sunshine hitting him comes magnified, like the smoke from the sky cups us around as a cave. The world is our cave, and we're still trying to hide.

Are we still..? When I glance toward the dunsparce this time, his usually lighthearted brow has gone wrinkled at the top. Wandering in the excess of his head... Is it pretty in there, too? Without these ashes does he roam, planting flowers instead of flame? That's Bay; that's only Bay.

Sometimes I wonder if it does still get to him, if it ever keeps him up at night, thinking about the boy who died who in this plane of existence was his best friend. Sometimes I think of it... and it bothers me. It bothers me how Tim killed him, killed Burr and Mina, killed Gaurdio in a sense. Tried to kill the others as well. He goes and gently promises these things, and it's like he's walking on crackling leaves in the autumn: every step drowns out his vows. And so he breaks them, breaks them like the underfoot of decay we still refer to as leaves before their pulpy particles disappear. Gone.

"Do you worry sometimes?" Bay's words hush over me. "Do you worry, Llana?" His eyes, while sealed shut as they always are, still effectively bore into me; perhaps he can see even with such a structure. I wonder if he sees _more_ as well... only he surely doesn't.

But it feels otherwise at times. Otherworldly Bay...

Zoey silent between us, I murmur, "Well of course I worry." Many things, many things. It's bad to worry for what's already ended—Elijah—but I cannot help it. And I worry about Bay, too, after... And about my other friends who were afflicted in some way; Tim's nigh killed most of them by now. Zoey's had multiple chances to... um...

"But do you worry about... us dying? Anymore than what's already happened?"

I squeak. "Per-Perhaps I cannot trust him but there are times when—"

"Times when..?" he whispers mystically. Easily Bay's wispy yet solid voice slices through my bumbles.

Closing my eyes, I try for a breath. It's hard to look at it all. "Times when he's saved one of us. And he wants to change and—and I know none of you were there so there is nothing I can quite salvage to show you... but as long as he's here, prowling with us, I feel quite sure he shall not dare to..."

"Yes, yes." The little dunsparce, gaze as mystic as he, lowers his words to the ground. Almost like a sacrifice... "He would not dare in front of you. Always his attempts were... subtle. Out of most harm's way. Certainly out of your way. He wouldn't dare while you're right here." His words gently fall, like they always do, no matter the substance behind them: fear? He's not easy to shake, and he smiles most indefinitely. Though Elijah is dead... and the others as well...

Only I wish that it could stop. Of course I do; who doesn't? It's a shame. "I—Sorry, Llana. I grew worried as well about how thinly our lives cling to this world..." Bay ducks his head. "Quite a shame, would it be, for us to... lose more. I fear we will. But I guess we all fear we will." Even thus, like a battle in his maw, cheerfulness clings fiercely to his whisper.

Bay is always like that. Even he couldn't shake that bit of brightness; even if he wanted to. Though I doubt he ever will.

Zoey pouts a little more evidently. Her feet tip where she steps, suggesting any next morsel will cause her to fall. It worries me; I cling tighter to her. "I get what you're sayin', Bay. Really, I do..." She partly glares at the ashes below her, the ones caking each of our feet. "Just like... Tim's face, at least, gets all sad and slumpy sometimes. It's funny to look at him when he can hardly hold that big, fluffy head of his. So, I dunno. Maybe it's a sort of promise."

"Nnh... do we have any promise to give him back?" I wonder. Just quietly. Maybe we aren't supposed to after he—

"Oh! Yeah! I wonder... gahh, it better not be _you_ , Llana. Else I think I'll have to try and kill him myself." Her thick, watery eyes shift over me. "Do _not_ go and tell me it won't work. I know it won't. But stiiiilllllll! He's a meanie if he wants Lllaaaaaanaaaaaaaa!"

Looking away, I giggle. "Heh... Well I don't think I'm off anywhere anytime soon."

"Good!" The finality in her rather bouncy tone makes even Bay crack a grin.

"But—Zoey—please don't kill anyone."

"Hnnn! Llanaaaa!"

Zoey...

Perhaps it's feeble but I can't help to worry about his loss of his friend. Prior to Elijah's... Bay tended to tromp about behind him, around him, and as far as I can tell there is no place where their paths were separate then joined, for they were always together. And their points complimented one another. Bay looked up; Elijah faced down. The optimist and the pessimist in their finest forms. At least in the beginning.

It was more complicated, like many things. Only now, it's...

And then of course there's Mina and Burr. I found them—I found their bodies when Tim went after them... in the end. They were far away, hidden in a land of ice. There was an idea to create another Paradise; Burr and Mina would start it but come back once others had it running. Only as they explored... Tim found them... he hurt them... he killed Burr... I found Mina before she died... she'd told me about herself, about how Burr wanted to truly make it official—be mates—she wanted to wait a little longer... shouldn't have waited...

Randomly I'll recall those subtle things. Sweet lavender Espa's left ear—torn now, a piece of it cut off cleanly. How desolate tiny Ember and Cheeka freeze when they see him nearby. And of course, Zoey. She's changed... sometimes I feel as if she hasn't changed at all, still bubbly and small and brimming to tears in hopes and dreams.

Her grip is tighter. It already was tight; still it tightens. Because she knows it's possible to lose something; so maybe if she never lets go it can't leave. Truly it should be me who can't bear to release her, because she's the one who stands a chance of losing her life—she's stood in the face of death and stared at him, multiple times, only for he to be the one to blink first. My grip is so weak...

How many others has Tim ended? Is there even a way to count it: or does this total roam on endlessly, too impossible to comprehend the full of? Countless like stars in the sky, little bits of broken light simmering in the weight of the dead, in the dead of the night, in a night that will end but always be ready to return. And they are gone, anyways.

Worrying about _him_ scares me the most. I have to hold a hand to my lips to try and convince myself not to fall into hyperventilation; not to think about it, doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. Only it never was I who I worried for—even if I was just as mortal as my dear friends—I don't want them to go too! But I don't have hands like his. Mine aren't scarred and molded into a whole different world of experience. I can't stop his fires with a flick of a finger...

Maybe it's not possible for me to hurt them in most natural ways—but I can't stop _that_ either.

Gentle fingers, white and fluffy like clouds, tug and tug at my tired hands. They cramp from how much I try to hold on, but I don't want to let go. What if—what if I release and... "Aww, you poor Llana. Bay, look how sad she's gettin' herself, thinkin' bout all these sad things. It's like—like she wants to curl up and die, but curling up and dying is lame, so she keeps trying, but she's such a small and precious Llana that she hurts herself trying."

"Hmm-hmm..." A little laugh. "I think you're right, Zoey... ehh... ehh? Is she even listening right now? Can she hear us talking? She looks so... so sleepy! Hnn, I feel real bad... but—but she's still a cool girl, isn't she, Zoey?"

Laughter. Sparkling, soft laughter. Joy. "Of course she is! Llana's the coolest girl around! And she's miiiiiine~! No one else gets her—but me!" Shifting of feet, tighter arms, big blue eyes, bigger and bluer than the sky. "Oh yeah, she's really tuckered out. Umm... oops? Heh... poor thing." I think that pout returned...

"Ooooh! You wanna go pester Vivi with me about it? We can check on her with that..." Chuckle. "Heh—I know, I know. I used to have the most awkward and awful crush on her... but I'm happy for her now. I believe a certain someone will—er—get better—and she'll be a lot happier... but we're buddies! Heh... buddies are nice to have... Y'know, I'm really thankful for all of you."

"Eheheheh! Llana, like the best magnemite _ever_ , has drawn us all together! Least, that's how I see it. Started with me, when I ran into her... y'know, after the whole Gerald-and-Stella thing. And then we found, er, Burr and Gaurdio—man I love that name—and then _that_ later summoned Mina. Not to mention Vivi and F themselves... Espa, Umbre... Ember and Cheeka... umm... Jen! Jen is great—oh, and not to mention you and Elijah...

A pause. "Hmm..? Ummm, Bay? You okay? Not that you can't do that, but you got all quiet there. You look a little..."

Small sigh. Still, it's a... happy sigh. A relieved sigh. "I'm okay. Just thinkin'. Umm... Back before everything happened, before we went wandering and found you and Llana, we had a home out here somewhere. I kinda... didn't have much of a family when I was small, but Elijah's mom found me, and she is by far one of the coolest moms _ever_... and their dad was nice but he constantly foraged. He always had to be prepared... When Elijah and I went and found you... I think his sister's... oh, I don't even know how old. Probably nearing toddler age..."

"WHAT? HE HAS A PRECIOUS ADORABLE BABY SISTER? LLANA DO YOU HEAR THIS?"

"Yehhh-ehhhhh-ehhhnnn..." It's a struggle to wake myself up again...I liked it when Zoey...

Awkwardly she squeaks. "Oop, I'm sorry—I'm sorry, Llana, I'm sorryyyy! Waahhhh!"

We go spiraling into the ashes for the umpteenth time today, she atop me, arms tight about me.

Stark silence, until... "I-It's fine... D-Don't worry so much for me..."

"N-Nuh uh, Llana! Hnn!" With a tug, she manages to pull me up to my feet, soon joining me. I try to brush at those scraps and scraps of ashes of—of—of—things—once-living things—nearly falling against Zoey or tripping over Bay in the process. Her lips settle into a small line when I manage a balance of sorts. "D-Don't use up all your energy in fear. I know it's kinda scary, and the earth below us is—er—stuff—lots of fun stuff—but getting all worked up over it won't do much in the end. We gotta just... try our best." To top off her words, she slaps her hands on her sides and puffs out her cheeks.

Bay politely beats his wings together, just gently, for her. Then murmurs, "But really... should we go find Vivi?"

"I-I..." Um... "Sorry. I think I'll... try to do my best..."

"Nnh." Zoey clucks her tongue. "Poor Llan-Llan, fallin' asleep on her feet, so caught up in all this fuzzy business..." Words soft, her eyes darken a bit. "Nnn... all this fuzzy business..." Small sigh.

For a moment, Bay points out how far behind we've fallen, so we use time instead to try and catch up prior to our... it's a thought rather not conjured. Perhaps we were harmless, idle or motile. For all we know, life was obliterated on these blackened plains. B-But perchance otherwise.

The dunsparce raises his round, friendly face again. "Hm. Just thinking about it... about a lot of things, I guess, it's—it's like... Darkie and her enchantments; Tim; you, Llana... it makes me wonder how the first connects in with everything, right? She was sure a... problem of ours for awhile—heck, she and her minion thingies tormented Espa and Umbre into running here in the first place! But why them? And... I hate to say it... what's next?" He whispers the last part like he wants to pretend he didn't say it. That whatever it may be... isn't.

Darkie is or was a legendary being in similarity to other legends, mostly unlike Zoey, or Bay—more to Vivi and F. Darkie herself—darkrai her species I believe—took in account other pokemon and somehow convinced or forced them to come after us and... try to kill us, more or less. One of the most prominent was a pink little dear, Munaah, who did happen to be a munna...

They reappear in dreams sometimes... I don't know if a legend can die but... I thought I stopped Munaah... she wasn't as strong as Tim in any way and I thought...

Zoey, damp fingers tight on me, steps brusquely, head tipped to the earth. "Hmmmn... that's true, I guess. Stella didn't really like her, like, back when Stella was around. Wonder if Quagsire has any idea bout them? I dunno, he seems like the kinda guy to know everything," she giggles, then blinks. "Well. Darkie's like Tim... but she's not Tim. And, I mean, all the junk she did to us we were able to reverse—remember when you totally owned her minion buddies, Llana?" I blush.

Munaah. Yes... but she's...

"Still, though. Darkie is like Vivi. And she's like Tim. But she's not Tim... but she's like Vivi. Maybe, uhhh... Instead of how Vivi and F—and I think you-know-who—joined you, our buddy Darkie went after Tim?"

Bay nods his bright face. "Eh! It's possible. Suppose it doesn't matter too much, though... so long as she doesn't pop out of nowhere for more." Shaded face. Oh—oh y-yes—when she was around, Elijah... right.

It's not plausible for a soul to go through so much as to smile every time someone glances at them.

Bay cries as easily as anyone does.

I know he... wasn't the happiest as the aftermath wrapped us all in its wordless bout.

The poor, dear thing shyly nods to himself, shyly smiles a bit. "Sorry... I can't help but think of it sometimes. And I mean... well. You know what I mean. Paradise the land is gone, even if we aren't. It's still a bit of a baffling experience. Yes... yes..."

"Hey, don't worry about it! We're all going through the same sad stuff right now. We get it. You can't be a perfect sun all the time; you wouldn't be you if you were... ehheh." Zoey frowns at the thought. "Well, I guess Llana's special cuz she's got her special Llana junk, and then Tim's special too: but you're special in your own Bay way. Don't... worry." Again I blush.

"Yes, yes... We should all take comfort in what we do have... thankful that in the least not everything has gone from us. I'm pleased to know that you, in the least, are still fine and breathing, Bay." I almost mumble it all into Zoey's shoulder. It just feels s-safer there...

Another little Bay smile. "Hehh..." His spirit still remains as untouchable as always. That's... very good.

"Oh, oh. Llana... what do you think comes next? What might result from everything that we have seen as of now?" Bay raises his head for me; his eyes ask, not beg, nor hunger, for my thoughts. He's a polite one... always has been...

I try to face the sky as I think, try not to enunciate each and every word while cowering half-by Zoey. A-As much as I want to... "I... well... what was it that came first? I suppose our... er... births. Tim and myself, that is. And from then on... he killed. He destroyed, until eventually today happened and this is the world now. As, otherwise, I was swaddled by my uncle and Stella and never heard of such things like 'power' and 'darkness.' Nor 'light,' that is.

"Supposedly Darkie sprung up before the end of that time. As she's not so common, I would presume that she never found Tim at his younger, tender years. He did find Mina, and Burr, and Gaurdio, and they were at some time a family for him—one he did _not_ harm. Hnn..." Oh. "Then I...

"Then I guess soon may be my turn."

Tim festering regret. Quagsire, the one who bound us together in the first place, leads us along a terrain he heals with his footsteps. Not to mention Mary from behind. And I have my friends... so then... indubitably shall something new come to pass.

Although it's only expected, by this time.

 **XD I promise all this intro stuff is almost over with! It's just, like... I realized there was more to cover, and then I wanted to add in Bay to help with that... (almost added Vivi too but I didn't xD)**

 **But by the next chapter, stuff is really gonna go back to speed. We've introduced more of conflict, covered character introductions... the storyline is sort of there (I mean it's kind of big so xD)**

 **now I have a question for you! Any opinion on these said deaths? Do you think anyone else might die, and if so, who?**


	5. I'm Waiting

Chapter 5: I'm Waiting...

 _A crescendo of color, a ladder from lightest to darker, darker precedes me. Sparkles have embedded within; despite myself my thoughts go to Stella. She's not dead—wherever she is—for she can't die. She's like me, only a little more advanced, a little more resistant to the calling of the mortal world. And she's like a mother to me. Gerald the father... only he_ is _dead. These thoughts, incompatible, roil and roil around in my head until it's hard to speak I'm in so much shame._

 _They aren't here for a reason. A-And I'm older now... s-stronger, in a-a way. I wish Zoey was here so I could hold her hand and have her come with me. She usually does that on her own. Maybe it's desperate, maybe it's sad, maybe it's exactly what my "parents" wanted me to not do, but without her I fear I may unravel. As I love Zoey... love Zoey... she's very, very close to me..._

 _Tentatively I raise a foot and stuff it into the liquid-like color. Viscous texture clouds me and all of the pale scales up to my ankle. Deep, sucking breaths gnaw for my toes; I snuff my foot from this immediately. If that refuses to yield, then shall I scale the more-solid, cloud-like things? Or... risk the watery substance? Or I could stay here and refuse both._

 _The final option appeals to me. I wonder if I_ should _stay._

 _Or if this will make the other occupants of my place angry. It would be rather foolish of me to anger one just because I disliked the texture of the land here._

 _Why does this bother me so? It's possible not another soul loiters here. Sighing at myself, I glance around again to the ground, to the clouds, to the river of a rainbow slithering toward the heavens. Tipping my head back, the top almost provides view for me: if I do climb... One step, another..._

shhhluk.

 _Well it seems I've managed to convince myself. I bite my lip and toss myself onward; what's on the top? I want to see, I want to see... I wish to know... I doubt it's anything like Zoey or Elijah... nor Stella. She doesn't go through such a trial to find me when she does summon herself. Maybe it's not a friend at all, but a tree... or... or fruit? Although I have not much of a use for fruit other than nursing hunger. But we don't need fruit at this time... Quagsire knows how to—_

shhhik!

" _Yeaak!" I pull and pull but my fingers stay stuck in the viscous. Hot angry tears jam into my eyes and as hard as I try to tug it won't come out, it won't come out. Lamely, breath hot and cold, I force myself upwards again._

 _Goo now crawls up to my waist. I hold my other hand high to the side, tousling cloudy rocks to the right if I ever need another hold. Though usually I don't; every time the thought of removing my one free hand from safety chills me. Though without the one lost I suppose I wouldn't get far anyways._

 _S-Still... Ghhh... Struggling. Squirming. I push myself again, and again. My head swims—but not—not in the liq—_

dnnkahahh-kahhh-kaahhhhh-ashhhhhhhhh...

 _Am I... Am I breathing still? The thick liquid goop meets about my eyes, my mouth, my sore nose snubbed by some sharp rock or another. It's hard to breathe—can I even breathe? Or is it all just the conglomeration seeping down my esophagus, settling in my stomach..? I feel sick... I shouldn't be thinking so much about this... Settle... settle... settle... settle..._

 _As much as I repeat the whisper, the world calms about me. Command, command, and my soul bows into release. Whether or not I am breathing, I do manage calm. It doesn't feel like a facade... So why, then, am I here..?_

 _Oh... that's right... I can breathe because only Tim can stop me... S-So I'm fine._

" _Be calm, Llana," I mutter through bubbles of taffy. "Calm... calm... calm."_

 _Even the word is subtle on my lips._

 _Black._

 _Black. Thick, dark, dripping, falling—like hair—black in my mouth. Black down my lungs. Up my nose. Through my eyes—it itches, oh, how it itches. I can hardly stand to live with myself over it. And that sound... that awful, ceaseless sound..._

scrrscrrscrrscrrscrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-guhhhh...

 _Itching, itching... tears in the edges of my pupils. It's like fire. Fire that Tim started and Tim spread... the colors in front of me bleed to red, all that isn't black patterns of blood. The weight, still, heavy, like mud. I can't lift myself, and I think I'm falling, only there's nothing to fall into, only more solid uselessness. H-How bleak... how bleak._

 _Itching and teething and sculpting around me, I lie in wait... it itches in my throat, in my head. It must be everywhere at this time._

 _When I cough, a burble protrudes. Bits of air trapped in the liquid with me. For sure by now I recognize that I won't be released in any way soon... Oh, how bleak... how bleak..._

"Ghh!" Sunlight pouring through the sky dances brightly in my eyes. Struggling, I crawl over my feet, stomach in the sandpaper ashes. My eyes squint on their own. "O-Ouhh..." Small sigh, shifting weight. "Zoey? Is that.. you?"

A new blot in the sky beckons closer. If I try harder: if I glance deeply: there, her big bright eyes gleam. "Hmmmmm? Man, you sleep like you're never gonna get up again! Didja have sweet dreams?"

I blink slowly. "Um... not very. Ehh..." My mind's continued its restless trot. Rubbing my gaze and slowly daring to stand, I face Zoey's glistening sapphire orbs again. "Are you faring well?" I murmur, wincing at the crutch in my royal accent. Cough.

"Hmmnn..." Her fingers raise; white paw-tips sift through the air; they land harshly on my forehead and muss over me. "Your face gets all slumpy when you're thinking too much about dumb worrying things. Geepers, try to take it easy if you can! You're gonna make me start growing gray hairs just looking at you! Llaaaanaaaaaa... you wouldn't want that, would you?" Pouting, she digs her soft fingers into my head just a little further. I smile a bit at the sky.

"Perhaps not..." I give her a peculiar look over with my eyes and my thoughts and pause again. "Zoey, don't you worry about something? You're always force-feeding me those words, and while I don't mind your own care, you must have something going on in your head as well." Her eyes pinch; they narrow, then narrow, then narrow. Her lips purse. "May I ask what this thought could possibly be?"

She squeaks sharply. "That—doesn't matter! It's... it's rather obvious, a-aaaaannyways... s-s-so don't go asking st-stupid things like tha-aaat..." Tying her little fingers together, Zoey turns tail and hops off from me. Quickly, further off, she immerses herself by the flaming red fur only F sports; eyes down in the sodden dirt, I peel the ashes from my stomach myself.

There's again a new-sprung bushel nearby simply bursting with the scent of spring. Its leaves overflow with jewel-like berries; Vivi must have brandished one to serve as our food source for today. The roots, in the least, trail back toward her lagging paw prints. Quagsire helps her with it sometimes. But that's her power; we all have different aspects of them. Hers merely raise in strength than in comparison to, say, Roland. And Zoey. And Espa, Umbre. She and F excel; would Tim and myself have risen even above them? I don't know, I don't know: must I? Have I always?

I miss Stella more often than I thought I would. As if I'd presumed, when I first lost Gerald—he could only live for so long prior to old age—that I would forget and lose her then as well. Only I didn't. But she's gone now. It's hard to understand... hard to understand myself as it is, not even beginning to dab upon the outside. For all I know, the others have all sorts of thoughts like layers peeling back into their personal core: and they have their own wishes like these tugging them like dolls in all directions. There is no control.

My fingers rustle, settle, bloom within the plant. Its branches tighten, sowing together furthermore; the leaves brighten; and fruit lightens, soft, bouncy, fleshy, tasteful. Palpable from the looks of it that Ember, standing awkwardly by me, was waiting for the reaction. There is no control; this is who I am and it ekes out everywhere—just like his, just like his and few chosen others too. It makes me all embarrassed sometimes...

Do I ever leave footsteps of silky-white light behind me? Do I make a difference any similar to Quagsire's healing footsteps, to Vivi's healthy, food-succulent plants?

It's probable I could survive without nourishment. As the pink-eyed pansear robs a pulpy red berry and searches back for Cheeka, my own fingers hesitate before one green bulb. It's probable; my stomach rumbles; off goes the plant, from its home to its tomb in my dissatisfied belly.

How long will the bushel last when we leave our backs behind it? I don't want it to die like everything else has... the world doesn't deserve this black finger-paint. This staining, oily substance has wrecked natural life; it feels grainy and sooty, cough-inducing, noisy—a shame I cannot think of how to restore it. Tim is merely so... powerful. And I pale in comparison to his shadows. Cheeks stuffed with bits of food, thoughts roaming freely, I merely wait there with my head almost buried in the bushel's leaves.

At the least, I am sure Zoey fares well even in this atmosphere. She'd flocked to our victini friend; she's not in harm, not in harm. How dangerous is it out here?—and how quickly will we learn? My mind flashes back to that cobweb of a dream, its strands withering in front of me. Choking, helpless... filthy colors of abundance. Head dunked under the water-like liquid that held me—held me down out of reach for any speck of notion.

Who is in control?

Fingers now slick with sweet juice caress the bottom of my throat, like I'm expecting there to be a... a noose or something. There isn't. I was sure there wouldn't be. Yet there they lie, all dripping with sappy green fluid, prodding, inconsolable, against my collarbone. My hand, smoothing over that one little slot in place, slowly finds itself encompassed by a larger shadow, one swamping my overall figure. Fur gently rustles beside—behind me, eyes I can't even see against me.

The words to confront a greeting die out in my throat when his hand _clomps_ into my shoulder. The difference of sizes has his fingers liberally swallowing me up, piece by piece. Where his hand touches, warmth oozes through me. I stay silent, tongue dry. So, kindly as he is, he enters first for me: "Good morning," pause, "Llana." His deep yet rippling whisper doesn't help how I feel here.

"He-"—I wince—"Hello, Tim." Boring my lidded brown orbs into the nearby rock beneath my foot, I gently enunciate my syllables. "What may give me the"—swallow—"pleasure of seeing you in this bright morning sunshine?"

Tim murmurs fluidly, just by my ear, "Oh... nothing much." His fingers plant pressure into my pulsing shoulder. "They are nearby." His voice drops even further. "Perhaps your eye cannot detect them just yet, but _they_ are _here_."

Oh, I'm sure, Tim. "Who is it we're talking of now?" My cheeks swell with red.

"Sorry." He goes on. " _Them_."

"Them."

Pause. Bite of the lip. "Like... they're like... ah—Munaah, her. Yes, she and her little minions that followed like freckles about us... they're everywhere. And they're here as well." I—er—see. "Stay behind me. I'm going to turn and you're going to get behind me. They're... predators. I couldn't stand the thought of them coming near—"

He pulls himself in front of me, myself wildly falling by him, without another word. His voice dies; his eyes darken; I can't even see them from here but it's a feeling and I know it... and I know it... my eyes follow his lurking stare and sentence themselves within a few bitten-at leaves. These bits of plant now coalesce with the damp vines of shadow.

I swallow. They were heartbeats away from me. Tim's fingers—claws—flash upon the bushel and I wonder, breathless, blind, if I can do anything for him: m-my own power counters his. Would they not shield f-from these nuisances? Stifling my squeaks, I stuff my fingers into a ball in front of me, order their twitches to go still. Further I shuffle behind the wall of radiating heat, of black fur. Tim.

A muzzle forms itself first. An arrow-like point for a nose shifts leaves from its face, pouring an inky black figure from the heart of the bushel. Eyes like mud at midnight encroach themselves wide open; a tittering from the tightly-packed teeth erupts. Sneeze, sniff, cry. "Kiiiiiii...kikikikikikiiiiiiihh..."

The foolish thought to ask him what—that—is slides down my throat; only I keep silent; for to ask would allow those heavy ears on its head to twitch, to detect me. I doubt Tim wants it to see the brightness behind him. Clearing its little throat, a lanky piece I could easily wrap my hand around—me, someone small as me—the beast's hot, roiling throat utters again. "Tiiii _iiiim_.

I didn't know it could talk. "Why, hello." I-I didn't know it could _speak._ "Kii...kii...kiiiihh... hehehehehehhhhhhsssss..." Why does it laugh so?—why does it sound so?—will it ever stop speaking? "Are you surrounded by to-be victims, now?"

Claws flash.

"Leave me be. Go find another bushel to gnaw... Savage, leave me be, would you? You come in the night as much as it is—"

Coughing. "Kiii—kiiiihhh—in sssssseach of you, of couuurrrrrrrssssse... heheheh..."

I can't help it. My breath won't hold and I'm stupid. "Tim—can I—"

"Oo _ohhhhhh,_ Tim, is _that_ a _girl_ I _hear_?"

A throat clears. "No." His dark glare attempts and fails to silence it. "Leave, I tell you. Am I not your creator, you—"

"KIIKIKIKIKIKIIIII! GIRL, GIRL, GIRL GIRL—"

"Aaaa-aaaaahh!" One hand covers my face as the other slams atop that thing's vile little nose. My breath falls from my lips and I cower, cower, cower... and once I've managed to restore myself, that thing has gone silent all on its own. Already my now-slimy fingers had removed themselves; beneath the thing's head there is no body; above the thing's body there is no head. Only dust. Dust. Whimpering. "Did I kill him?" I whisper.

Gently Tim sighs beside me. "For all I know," says he, hand raising, brushing back the ashes, "he never existed in the beginning. Ah..." He turns back toward me. "I appreciate your purifying of it. Didn't think your powers could hold up that much... although I suppose the thing wasn't that large... but I worry. Pests like he can end lives easily."

"How many?" I blunder back into our conversation, wonder why I didn't just leave.

He blinks, slowly. His black orbs stare back at me. "How ma—"

"H-H-How many exist?" Small breaths. "Like those things? How many? How many?"

And then they close. Sigh. "Too many. I'm sorry." He stays to hear my breathing ebb and flow, but leaves the moment he catches the sound of floppy feet on burnt soil.

Zoey's hand catches about my arm again. Quagsire's beady orbs raise; they train on me, not unkindly. He asks me in that soft and floppy voice of his: "Llana, mmmaay I be given the honor of understanding what exactly has happened here todaaay?" And soft as he is, the way those black little orbs watch me suggests, prods, that perhaps I do tell him. Now, if I may. The deeper I focus in on those eyes, the more I think I'm about to see—suggestions of bright light and a pit of sensation down within. Color. Feeling. Words and passion spiral together, until he blinks cleanly, blurring away my notions with it.

Why shouldn't he know? It's important. It's... worrisome. "Did you hear the... um... crying? Of a strange creature, perchance? So it... was a... an unkindly sight... and I somehow fumbled over it... managed to release it from its... well... self, its atrociousness." And Quagsire blinks, registers this, filing it away somewhere; he's wise in such a way that could only be garnered from worlds of experience.

My best friend snorts beside me. "Maaaan... he's just always around the place, being stupid and messing with poor Llana's head... I don't like iiiiiiiit! Hnnn..." It unnerves me how often Zoey dusts off her pout and places it upon her. She's so upset about this boy, like he's more than most anything in her head. I understand that he's gone through quite a life, and he's tried and failed to kill she alone however much: still her focus is uncannily strong. "I don't like it, Quagsiiiire..." She slouches up against me.

"Hmmmm? No, couldn't see a reason why you would, Zoey." He snorts in return. "Still. He and Llana travel on special grounds together... mmm... so it's kind of difficult if you spend all your time mmmoping over him. He's got his own Timmmm agenda, hmm, you see? And he and Llana travel special grounds..."

Gaze full of the sky, he looks off. Zoey squeaks. "Heeeey! Quaaaagsiiiire! I don't like that kinda thinkiiiiing! What if... what if _I_ don't like that, and Llana likes me happy? Do I stand a chance then? Come onnnn, tell me I stand a chance at some point!"

"Zoey, Zoey... mmmmh." His big, drooping quagsire grin had brushed in shades of sorrow this time. "There are sommmme things in life that never change. Power is always kept in balance—alignmmment in weaker to stronger to the faint calls of immmmortaaality..." His smile grows a bit, grows even softer, even sadder. "And as well, Llana will never be able to harmmmm a soul—things like that don't change, hmm. And of course, as I'm sure you've figured out by now..." and he draws off, waiting for her to respond.

My dear friend's grin in response cannot recognize his. "Llana and Zoey are _always_ together! Oh... oh that's right, I went after F earlier... umm... in heart, they're always together forever! Ye-Yeah! Isn't that right! Some things never _ever_ change, Quagsire, ever!"

So he nods, and he nods. "Mmhmm, mmhmm. Tell it, Zoey. Tell the world." Softly he clears his throat; his eyes shift. "Now, mmmmm... let me ask you if you'd like to... hear a story? I guess this's weird timing, but we haven't started moving just yet. I think Vivi's debating whether or not to go in those woods o'er yonder. I'll probably hafta offer mmmmy opinion soon... ehh." He yawns in the face of his work like it won't safe lives, it's only everyday business.

"Still! Story?"

Zoey grips my hand. "Oooooh, I love love _love_ storiiieessssss! Let's hear one!"

She glances back at me and I nod big and great nods. If she'd like to, then nothing more would delight me.

"Mm-hmmmm! Thank ye, Zoey, thanks, Llana." Smiling, his eyes search about as if for a victim. "Have you ever heard of 'heroes,' either of you? Ehhh, sort of like Llana, Zoey. Sort of. Yes, I knew you wanted to know. Anyways! Mmmmmoving on! In this story, there _was_ a hero, and his name was... unimmportant."

"Aww!" Zoey snickers.

In return, our friend shrugs. "Sommmetiimmmes they are. So in this story!—there did so happen to _be_ a hero! He was strong, and he was brave, and he was as hero-y and any hero could ever hope to be. Only," he leans in, voice dropping octaves, "there was a problem to his heroism." He leaves a space for Zoey's horrendous gasp. "And it was how he viewed his saving of others. I know, such a strange thing to be upset over, isn't it?

"So our hero friend here, he thought that as long as he shoved his creatures saved out of harmmmm's way and mmmmoved on—he'd be good! Zoey, stop nodding. That's not good." She quietly voices her 'oh' by me, and I nod in support of her. "Because, because... he wasn't thinking about them. All he wanted was to slave, slave, slave, to get himmmmself a 'higher standing.' Only he didn't notice if he saved, say, a princess from a distant land, and if he ignored her afterword... she'd never be able to give her gratitude; he'd never accept it. Any future they could've had together was abruptly cut short.

"You're supposed to take all your chances and tie them to you... always look out into the world and see what can happen, does that mmmake sense? Zoey, if you never thought after Llana got you through that scary lonely cave, then you wouldn't be here today, yes...?"

I blink. "A-Aaahh..." That doesn't appeal to me.

Quagsire merely winks. "Same with you'n Elijah, mmmmy friend!

"So what did happen to that princess? MMMmmmmaybe you're not wondering, but I ammmm. She lost the mmmaan who protected her with his life and found herself lost with a few years of her own. It took one random chance and one random girl who found her in pain to set things in any formmmm of right again... and while they were happy, there's always that question lurking: whatever did happen to that hero? No one will know, mmhmm..? Or so it goes..." Softly he laughs at that last part.

Zoey's silent for a moment. Then—"Oh my _gosh_ , that story was so weeeiiiird! You should tell stories more! And to more of us! Quagsire, you're a super duper storyteller!"

At the words, his eyes catch a strange little gleam. "Why, thank you. I like telling stories... it's kinda fun, mmhmm?"

Spluttering, I murmur, "Ye-Yes, thank you, Quagsire, that was a special treat..."

My dear oshawott squeals and pulls me against her into a hug, muttering about how cute cute cute that was and how I should call things "treats" more often. And thankful, I find myself resting by her shoulder once more.

 **Yay, Quagsire storytime! Hmmm I wonder why he got all suspicious around it? XD Do you? Don't you? Haaa okay**

 **that last part was way too fun oh my gosh, hahahahaha... Super Quagsire to the storytelling rescue!**

 **Quagsire: hwah!**


	6. for You

Chapter 6: ...for You...

Remarkably waxy leaves slap across my face on my way past this next passage. The vile _coonch_ of dead plant matter settles after my every move and it truly sets my nerves on end. Stubbornly my teeth click together when I hold my breath. It's a bit of a dank wash of air about us. Just toward the front of me, larger and finer in figure and litheness, Vivi raises one smooth foot after another: it's as if there are no obstacles that don't bow beneath her. She glimmers, sometimes, when I look at her out of the corner of my eye. But that might just be me.

Fingers following steadily behind me clip for my own each turn we take. I glance again back at the cloudy blue figure; Jen, nervous, doffs her head into a blush as Zoey squeaks softly. She just shoves against my best friend in response. She's nervous; she's shy. I don't blame her. Patterns of shadows fall everywhere the light can't quite reach beneath the canopy of leaves. Unsurprisingly the ones up on top contain less holes, less death. It's so bright there...

 _Boooooooooom—burburburburburburburrrr..._

A tumble of rocks will slowly bring us in.

Their crushing gray bodies tremble from another side; Vivi, uttering something beneath her breath, comes to a stop. I nearly run into her and scramble by her side instead. Ulgh... "What was it?" My own gaze slithers up toward hers: bright purple eyes blink.

"Some sort of slide? It reminds me of more avalanche, though, in style: without the cold of course." My friend's even tones settle atop the face of the forest ahead of us; she clicks her tongue like these boulders are naughty little things. "Although they surely caught a breeze from their fall. It fluttered my fur, heh." Her creamy, tentative paw rests place upon a newly-planted stone. When it holds, she gives a firm nod. "Yes, we should be alright. Only some overfed pebbles, yes?" Blinking gently, she sets herself toward the pathway; I scatter up to follow, only stopping when I recall Zoey's... less than stellar climbing skills.

Her small yelp draws my hand down to her when scrabbling, blue feet—slick with water—cannot hold. It takes both Jen and me for the poor thing to manage, herself sniveling with the effort. Dashing back, we go on toward Vivi, who acknowledges our little tumble with a nod.

Murmuring, her amethyst gaze flashes again over us: "I wonder how the others fare. Do you think splitting up into the teams we made was a wise decision?"

"Well... the forest _is_ big." I shake my head. "We cover more ground this way... although I'm not completely sure what we're searching—"

"YEEEET!" cries Jen.

"—for... aaah!" Just on cue I blunder into a great, black, bulky... bulky—bulky—bulky _thing_ and hustle backwards only his mitts are so large. They grind into my shoulders; my hands, smarting, go off and flail against him. Everywhere these fingers of mine sink against him lies a waxy, white mark, foreboding like the color of bones. Only I thrash and it's so strong, so big, it's so—everywhere—until something green smears by my sight and the thing lands in its own little puddle of goo.

Vivi. Oh bless her...

Panting... panting... heart pounding in my head... when did it get there... I don't know...

Whispers like leaves—Vivi's. "Those are so creepy... There's just nothing else to call them. Ghh..." Her nose wrinkles, eyes surveying over my state. "And now that we're this far from Post Town and most other life... the Mystery Dungeons... everything... they populate in bouts of seeming madness," she sighs then, forces her head side to side. The horns upon her wriggle in digression. Her moue is copied by the likes of Zoey.

"Ye-Yeah..." Slowly, wincing, Jen nods. There is a little mark not unlike a hand-print creasing over her other cheek, on her right one. It's black like... like the puddle. I take my steps back from this latter now, bumping against a warm barrier of scales and fur. My heart takes its chances, slows its rate. Sometimes it doesn't feel quite safe when it is.

Blushing, Jen tosses her shoulder over and allows her silvery hair to cover her splotch. "E-Eheh, sorry... I'm sure it'll he-heal or something, yeah?" Her amber orbs dart for the heart of safety in the rocks beneath us.

"Awww, Jeeennn! No need to fret, you poor thing! I'm sure Roland's all stupidly boyishly worried about you right nooww! Hahaaaaa!" Zoey cackles, gently elbowing the dragonet, who splutters and rubs at her cheeks, looking away. Smiling, Vivi's paws split the rest of the silence with greedy steps. She does not mention the word on her mind, although it's obvious knowing her that she's thinking about Kyo. He's with... Quagsire. And Roland, too, I believe.

"Z-Zoey..." Jen blinds. Hard. "You don't have to say sappy things like that... i-it's weird coming from you. Just hearing the word 'boy' makes me all nervous, like something creepy happened if you're actually gonna say it..."

My dear friend's tongue juts out, taking its space personally. "Euhhhh! Boys are pretty weird, but there's some I'm okay with. Still! You're all thinkin' and worryin' bout your Rol-Rol, ain'cha? Ya wanna spill? I solemnly swear I'll keep Vivi from telling _anyone_!" A rejecting snort. "You know _I will_! Llana! Tell her about all the secrets I've helped you keep!" In one piercing moment, all eyes fall on me.

"I-I—I don't have any secrets and we all know it Zoey!"

"Hmmmmmm? Ya suuuuuuure?" Lashes flutter, heavy like wings, over her devious little eyes. "No worries? Not one? Nothing special at all you've ever told me? Nothing about your liiiiiiiiiikes?" And then her eyes outright thunder. "Heheheheh?" Her giggles only follow and follow; my eyes catch upon her.

Then, "Well, Zoey. I'm sure whatever you're talking about wouldn't be a secret any longer if you told anyone."

"Oh yeah! Well—well I _won't_! You're _welcome_!" She goes back then to pestering Jen until the poor sky-blue girl's gone nigh cherry with all of the teases. Shivering, spluttering, she rubs at her eyes.

Slowly she mumbles, "I know Roland's worried about his little brother... the one he hasn't seen in a long time... back when he was younger and hadn't even met us... ri-right?" Jen nibbles on her lip. "So I guess he thinks with all of the scary things going on... that we'll run into him soon or something... and he really, really wants to see Olive, so..." She sighs in her soft flutter. "He's m-my friend... and he's been worrying about it a lot... so I just... he-hehh... sorry."

"Sorry?" Vivi chuckles tenderly. "My dear, you have no need to be sorry for the stories locked in your heart. There's nothing wrong with passions and feelings... and if they're special to you, then of course we are here to listen. Some of us... more than others." She doesn't look at Zoey but she might as well be painting a bright red circle on her face. "Still. Please don't worry! Heheh..."

We sift off into an ensconcing silence. One where words aren't needed—thoughts aren't needed: for still it is comfortable, and I don't mind the silence. It only means that there are no shadows hissing behind us. There are many of them... an-and they can't help being sca-scary, I guess. It helps... I help... with their methodical finality, their endings and endings: only puddles that wither away remain, and even that shall come to an end.

When I turn around I like to pretend that there are tiny prints, white and glowing, and they coalesce into the dying soil. Perhaps it's a bit on the side of what some call hopeless; there are things that cannot be helped. I like to pretend, even if I'm not, that my power is stronger and much more beautiful than it really is. Flower, not bud. Flame, not flicker. Warmth, not...

How is Tim faring now? His own team included the likes of F, and while I love F, she's more than hands can hold; the look in her eyes always asks you if she's up to something and you've missed it again. She'll drive him senseless; she's worse, I would imagine, than an overly protective Zoey. It's amusing when I see it that way. And isn't that all it is? Perspective. I-I know that... he's not very truly nice... and for all I know he doesn't sleep at night, he searches for victims I have no ties to... but... still. I squeeze Zoey's hand in my own; my body rustles into Vivi's green side. It's warm. It's... safer than the outskirts have been.

Another slams down by our heels. When I turn just that look—a catch of rock-like body, boulder strength as well as weight—it's on my tail—on my tail—I trip and snatch into the earth below. Hissing—it hisses from beneath where I touch, just my tail, my poor bent and trampled tail, sizzling and burning its body from the bottom upward.

Panting, slowly, eyes thick and glistening like soapy suds, I rub myself, splutter. My hands meet each other where they place across my head; the thumbs interlock; the creature twitches, cries, burbling and burbling its throaty screech sounds, until finally it bursts in twisting bits of waterfall about me. I don't hear Zoey's whispers, asking me to take her hand, for some time. I have to release myself, let the rest of the world in, before I can even start to think.

Even thus when our hands do collect I slip and fall and hiss into the conglomeration on the floor in front of me. "Yeeap! Llana! Oh you poor thing Llanaaaaaaa!" Zoey's body struggles, white fur heavy on me, to scoop me out of my latest demise and scrape back rows of black mixture. Try I might, it's stubborn. So stubborn. O-Oh save me...

"Ghhh... What do they want from you? They keep coming after you—you specifically..." In the most domesticated, artistic manner as it can be, Vivi gags. Her bright orbs glisten. "I'm sorry. It's... just..." Air blows through her teeth; I nod, face throbbing. Of course. It's fine. I get it. It's... gross. It is.

Jen's silvery braids shiver across her. Those tiny fingers of hers scab at the mark on her face. I don't think she's noticed, nor the scratches cutting it in pieces and pieces—yet still it lies. A foul odor that follows about the chamber... a piece of paranoia stuck to the back of one's skull... there it lies. "I-I don't blame you, Llana. They... They're creepy. And it's like they're everywhere, ri-right? At least... when they go for you—or... or Vivi—they don't, um, leave anything behind."

"Maybe Ember can burn it off later?"

"E-Ehhhh... Zoeeeyyy... I-I mean. It's a suggestion, tha-thanks... but... It... hnnn... if it works, I guess..."

Vivi wrinkles her nose, she moving herself on, further and further away from the stain. We scuttle after on our little feet. The dark forest all but swallows my pale toes. "Sometimes I wonder how real it all is.. heh. But I know it is. I've been through it; Kyo has walked with these shadows nigh to his death. I'm not sure about F..." Eyeroll. "She burns her own pathway. Some take the narrow road, some the wide and well-trod... F burns hers through whatever obstacle is obstinate enough to be in her way," she mumbles off, then, head full of other creatures who light up in the night.

Other legends like her... She has a brother, too. He never gave himself a name. Cobalion, they called him. He, um, visited. Once. With what he called a "mate for the sister." Then he was provoked; then he attacked. He is not here now. I'm not sure whatever happened to him post-battle, when he was unconscious and we dragged he and his comrade somewhere far away, but Quagsire's words advised us, just as they do now. He lights the lanterns; we follow his path. And I wonder, then, if we walks with us, or if he goes through his own higher road, one we never will quite understand.

I'd rather prefer his company with us. It would be colder without his tenderly floppy voice, his fun grin and funny story.

Did Ember and Cheeka go by his group or another's..? I do know the teams were chosen in particular with the weight of power and balance of such. There's someone like... like Vivi or myself in each. Ember and Cheeka used to wander on their own, before they found us. I'm sure if the need be they could go on and turn their backs to our little group.

But they knew Stella... and they hold such strange interest in me—probably deferring back to the lady who more or less entirely raised me. With Gerald. Dear, late Gerald...

"Zoey?" I whisper.

Her head whips back for me. "Hmmmm?"

"Do you... have any stories?" Jen looks back toward me; Vivi blinks. "Ahh! That is, about... about your family? I was... I was wondering. You're told me little about what frames who you are... and I was wondering if you'd like to..." Oh... I look back away.

Only then her hand squeezes mine and she laughs. It's a very soft laugh, like she's wrapping me up tight in blankets, leaving me someplace warm and safe. "Hmm... well. I have... a mom and a dad and... and a bunch of siblings. My parents're just older oshawotts... uhh... dew—no... sam... sam... samurotts! Yeah, that! They're huuuuuuge, towering blokes that walk on all paws like Vivi, and their furs are seas of blue! Then all my siblings are younger than me."

Jen groans.

"Heeeeyyy! Jennnnn! Just because they're smaller Zoeys doesn't mean they're any more... more energetic and junk than me! And plus, none of them... none of them... well! We have different tastes, I gotta say."

"Mmmmm..? Zoey, what do you mean by that?"

Her great, oceanous orbs flicker toward me. I can see feelings, bright and dark and hiding before me within her shivering irises, reflected past pupils. Feelings that pulsate and press about me, questions like bubbles waiting to be popped, waiting for the answer. Unsure, I glance past her, then back toward her. My dear friend, Zoey. Her long ears, dark and heavy with bluish fur, hang down and down, past her head and past her shoulders, ending just past that. Freckles and a big smile... She's special. Really. I think she is. Maybe no one else cares but I think she's special.

"Nothing, Llana! Heehee! Don't you worry your little head!

She goes on, voice bursting with giddiness. "I have twin little brothers... they're not toddler age—that's my sissy—but they're not _this_ old either... and my sissy is so small and her baby face is so squishhyyyy! It's so fun to squish her faaaaace!"

"E-Eheheheheh..." Jen's amber orbs burn. "That's sweet. I have a, um, biological dad... I'm not really sure who my mom is... and I haven't seen _him_ in awhile... but he... well... he likes, umm... boys. He-Heh..."

What's wrong with... liking boys..? "U-Um... it's okay, Jen. Your father likes who he likes, yes? Boys, girls..." Is that all?

"N-Nooo! But he... but he... I mean... you like girls, right? And you like boys—everyone mostly does. But he... he like... like-likes boys! I-I-If that ma-ma-makes any se-sense...

"L-Like how you... like-liked Elijah..."

Ahhhh...

Zoey's eyes go cold. I splutter."Yes. That... I get that. Umm..." I begin tripping over my words; the stare in her eyes worries me, unnerves me. When I try and squeeze her hand, she doesn't much respond. Her sapphire eyes flick off for another place entirely. "I... that's... there's nothing wrong with that! Ye-Yeah... as... as long a-as he's happy... ri-right..? There's nothing... nothing wrong with... with that..."

Finally her head resurfaces. I struggle to breathe.

Wondering, silently, did I say the right thing..?

It's a funny thought... but Zoey blinks; her blue eyes shadow me, smile back at me, and I think whatever just occurred and the waves of tension behind it have passed. That's good. I want my best friend to stay with me... stay right here.

We trudge on in another spot of silence. When my head raises, leaves brush and smudge up against me, the hand-print of the earth all that leaves its touch evident. Scratches, twigs, bits of matter on one's foot: this manages, but the dark things that tried to... tried to snuff me out were merely burned into waxy pulps. Perhaps they see me, clear as sunlight betwixt the trees, and unlike Tim their feelings aren't so full: they will... they want to hurt me. Maybe. I don't know.

Perhaps they're summoned by him a long time ago... and small, small expenses of power, he could craft them and send them out to toil and take more, more, because he can't take everything so quickly. Perhaps they aren't anything but my imagination turning rancid. Perhaps they're trying to take me... me to _him_. Perhaps... perhaps it's even Stella, playing a mean little prank on me—no. I'm wishing. I want that one to be true... nn. I shake my head. But quite obviously, they're... drawn to me. To Vivi, less so, and perhaps that going with F and the likes of Kyo too. But mostly they want... they want me.

My dream from prior, with the colors... and the sickening hold in gloppy water... what brought it upon me? Although of course it could only be a dream—only it doesn't... doesn't... _feel_ like it.

What if this was all really a dream? What if one morning I awoke only to find Gerald himself, brought from the dead—younger, fitter—no celestial beings such as Stella, no strange Zoeys to find me on my own, no Vivi, no magic, no bushels summoned from nothing but dirt, no foul rodents that cry "kikiki" or any sort of nightmare?

That would make me sad. It would be an awful dream, if it had to end... I-I know. Pokemon were hurt and still the chance of being said hurt is evident. Elijah was...

but if he was to never exist, alongside his best friend Bay, and Espa and Umbre—and sweet, dear Zoey... it's a confusing thought. What is better..? I don't know, I'm afraid of knowing, I must just embrace today and—

not run into Vivi when she halts and—

try not to fall into yet another monster's filthy grip. Only once again when he holds me, this one lankier, thinner, smaller: he melts nigh immediately. She. It. Gone. No longer.

And after the leaking goo dribbles from my hand comes pink, bright pink, backed in a red foliage of fur. Shuffling, I stuff my fingers into the earth, like it will hold my predicament. Ember surely sees me; he takes his time striding through greenery. Nearly steps on my tail. Just the slightest undertone of red embarrassment takes his face, only for a short moment, so I acknowledge his guilt without his having to say it: then he continues off in front of me. Those quartz orbs of his cut narrow. A thin line treads his lip.

"What the fuck was that?" I blink. "You saw it, didn't you?" I lift a hand, a finger, the pad of it pricked with black. "Holy—Llana, did you land on it or something? Did that thing touch you?" Ink, blood, dust—whatever it is, slowly its essence dissolves from my finger, my hand, my body. The tail Ember nigh stepped on twitches toward full luster—or as full as it gets.

Shock drips, drips, drips down his face, filling the cracks with smooth cusps. "You touched it. You touched a lot of them." Harsh blink. Twitch beneath his maw. "And you... destroyed it? Are you sure about this, Llana? Did you really... manage something like that? We both know that you're weaker than him. So what makes... ghhh..."

His face grips back. "Cheeeeeeeka!"

In follows the slender psychic, just as pink-eyed and twitchy as he. Ember's lighter, sharper voice drops with hers to hide their words: I'm left there somewhat dumbfounded by their presence as it sinks in that they... just... just appeared. Out of the wood. Where did they come from? Oh, very true.. I don't recall whose team they stuck to, if any—I'm sure one—but...

"Oh, hey guys! Hi, Jen! Hello, Zoey! Very nice to see you here! I didn't think we'd run into someone so soon—heh!" Out scampering from the leaves next procures Bay. His yellow presence manages to uplift the radiant shadow of our surroundings. "You've seen the weird jiggly thingies, haven't you? I think there's a whole bunch following us... or, well. There was—there was!" His jolly expression intensifies. "There isn't now! Ember and Cheeka didn't wanna mess with them so... Heh. I swear we're cool. So... what's up?" Smiling, Jen works her way over to the dunsparce, and they develop into idle chitchat.

Vivi turns herself over to the pansear and panpour duo. She angles herself with those luscious, green horns of hers gently shadowing over her wise posture. "What is it you were saying, Ember?"

"I'm saying that Llana can actually defend against something..." he mumbles, tooth over lip now. His fiery personality, doused by care over Cheeka and their strange power, tends to sneak out every now and then in stronger bursts. It's amusing, still... his change, and change, rippling like water, crazed into wakes.

"Hmm? Well. Yes! She's managed quite well, I'd say. The vast majority of these monsters have summoned themselves toward her, and yet she's managed, each time they came close to... would it be disintegrate them? They touch her; they dribble into a pulpy mess that soon disappears as well. Queer but..." Vivi's own whisper lengthens, towering over the duo; her face, flat and angular, smooth and rough, bunches in the middle, nose wrinkling again.

Cheeka gently raises herself; her waves of blue hair shimmer down her spine. "Euhhh... it is weird. She's... not very strong, right? And yet the killers fall to pulps in her hands... it makes me worried! Re-Really worried, right!" Her gaze falls back to Ember, voice lowering into nigh wordless mumbles.

His own furry head fluffs back and forth as he sighs. "I don't know. It's weird here. I don't like it. Makes me feel like we're losing our battles even more... like there's more of them... someone else.. Paradise was just one small place; now we're out here again and... I don't like it."

"Hmmmmmm?"

"Ahh!"

Zoey starts by a side I didn't know I had until her burled against me, head on my shoulder, feet scrabbling over mine. "Quagsire? You're here, too?"

"Well, mmmmost of us are. I had to go on ahead and find the bulk of you. The others should... be around here, errrr, somewhere."

It's nice to recognize the friendly faces over foliage; Vivi stiffens beside me even still. "Pardon my asking," she murmurs, low and swift, "but where may Kyo and Roland be, then?"

"Hmmm? Commmming along shortly, if all goes... well. I'll be checkin' back for them, soon. Llana, y'mmmmight have to commmmme with mmmmme for this."

"But Quagsire!"

His gaze flashes over the fuzzball beside me. "Zoey, apologies, but now is not the time to be proving anything otherwise. We got a... bit of an ordeal. And no—" his head raises in expectation—"it's not Tim, either, hmmmm. I think he'n the rest should be round here shortly. Espa, Umbre... F. Yeah, I think that's everyone. Hup!" He plops himself over the side of a hill up ahead and roams onward.

A pair of quarts gazes flash back to Vivi. "We're following him again?" Ember curls his lip, the teeth beneath smiling maliciously. Cheeka's lips bump together in a wrinkled quiver.

"You both know Quagsire. I only wonder where he'll be leading us toward... I guess we shall see soon." Vivi, shaking her head, leads on. Zoey clasps my fingers and pulls us both up and onward. I suppose Quagsire has... found something of sorts. I wonder what he leads us for now... and what sort of worry proceeds us... Roland and Kyo both...

Sure, he told us they were coming. Yet the button-like gleam in his gaze suggested he knew something else...

Oh, dear... worry knots my stomach... I glance for Zoey who immediately notes my discomfort and pulls at me, hugs at me; still my face drops dizzy with that pallor, for losing more and more makes me further lightheaded... a nervous wreck... fear cold and icy... like Tim's thoughts to the touch. I recall the times when he fully believed in his killing of my dear friends; the way he spoke living beings with thoughts and notions as pawns made me... sick. And it's as I worry now.

Jen was less shy prior to the loss of Mina. She'd finally lost her stutter, eyes clean and glistening, shining with her internal beauty... now she's lost again. She was close, very close with Mina. Best friends. Like Elijah and Bay. Like Zoey and me. And she was only budding in friendship with Roland—which only burst into blooming without Mina—and now he's upon the line as well... I'm scared for them all. They aren't pawns; Tim is at least trying to see that now. They're entire lives and they're falling from my grasp which seems to only shrink with Tim's—or his... things'—growth.

Where are we now? I don't want them gone... not at all...

Zoey's grip tightens on me; her words are snowballs forced down my throat, but it's better than eternal null, so I beg of her to keep going, to keep supporting me.

 **Poor Llan-Llan ;w; I always feel bad for her xD I kill Elijah, it's not enough... kill Mina, kill Burr (and man I loved Burr so that really messes me up), then Gaurdio (gaurdio! :D ...I like his name xD) , now there's just more and more chances for her friends to die... but they weren't safe in Paradise, and I guess this is Quagsire's only way of seeing more light on their paths...**

 **Elijah: ;_; I don't want more of them to join me... gahhhhhhh Llana um I believe in you**

 **Llana: ;w;**

 **Zoey: I WILL KEEP YOU SAFE LLANAAAAA**

 **Tim: –_– …**


	7. to Come

Chapter 7: ...to Come

 _Roland_

"Eyyy, wussup wit' dis? 't so... freakin' forebodin', yeh? Quag, why's dis place so freakin' dark here? I don' think 't be good fo' poor Jen..." And no, nuh, it wouldn't. Why the heck're we in this dump, anyways? He don't look so good himself. I'm pretty sure his face was friendly some bit ago... n' like... now it's sinking, thick, gloppy in the wrong areas—like under his eyes. Yuck, that ain't such a hot look, friend. His cheek're all puffed up like aspear berries—y'know: the plump sickly-colored ones. He's so sallow.

Yo, if Quag ain't doin' well here, then this ain't no place to be.

Kyo—silent guy—follows us, all tipsy and unsteady. He's always like that though so I ain't worried or nothin'. It's cool if you keep like that, guess. Jen said he was a bit weird, so don't say his name out loud 'less you're Vivi, only I ain't Vivi, so I shouldn't. Quag can't utter it either. Just... Vivi. She's the green one, I think. Bigger than Kyo a bit, but her face is all pinched and elegant—not Llana. I can tell that much'f a difference, yo. Still. Kyo. His eyes're dark and stifling right now so I try my best to look away—er, politely, that is.

Gah. Place's givin' me creeps. Why're we here again? Quag kept muttering about something worth the way in. I don' get the guy. What the heck is worth this dump? Again, it's a dump. Like, it _smells_. Reeks like everything is both on fire and rotten at the same time. Y'know that feeling? Now I do. Ulgh. Makes me worry bout poor Jen. She ain't done well since that other girl's...

Kyo's black stare penetrates back for me. Yo, what's the guy's prob? Never figured that one out. He goes bout, starin' and creepin' like a ghost-on-skin, lips big and pouting, mashed together, yeah? Like, what's goin' on in that guy's head? Does Jen know anythin' bout it? Heh, maybe she does. That wouldn't be good.

I run a paw over my face—dirt comes back—and call out back for the dude who's gone missing again. "Yo, Quag! Man, where you at? You're too good at this 'dis'ppearin' game!' Gah..." I wish he wasn't so freakishly fast. Why could something so floppy and gooey—face smeared green in all them wrong places—run like... like... like that Zoey kid? Yeah, her. What the heck? That's not fair... But the others think the dude's special, whatev' that means, so I'd better believe in his blue-and-green grin that he's round here somewhere.

"Hmm! Rolaaand?" Ah—there he is. Gah. Some blob of blue not so far ahead of me. "It's around here sommmeewheeerre!"

"What're ya talkin' bout dis time, Quag?" Run as I may, man, I'm not gainin' up on him. All that black foliage junk bumps into me, cuts into my skin—a whole frenzy of hot-blood pain beating into me. A mess for sure. Why am I so slow today?

Quag, casual bloke he is, raises one of his big hands, wriggles the fingers. "Can you reach me, Rolaaand?"

"Nnng... I dunno!" I bark back. "I dunno, I dunno! I ain't gettin' nowhere righ' now! Quag, what the heck is up wit' dis place? It's so freakin' cold!"

"Whoa!" His eyes bulge with flavor I doubt I've gotten to see before. "Roland, what's up with those scratches? So mmmuch red... hnnn..." His cheeks bulge, too; for once I seriously feel like all those doubts of mine were true. Quag ain't magic. Right? Yeah, whatever, he stopped the fire: he's water, though, like, water douses fire, don't it? Gah, all these faces and all these worries written on them.

Wait. On the other hand, I should probably be getting a little concerned bout myself right now. These scratches... When I lift a hand, point a finger, dab at a swollen crack of red: a whole coating comes back with my now-dyed pad. Well that ain't good, is it? I just stuff the thing in my mouth for now, try to wash off that salty, hot tang. It's like tears but red. And painful. Ow. I'm startin' to notice how much each step hurts.

The world throbs in all kindsa colors round me, the kindsa colors I don't think're supposed to show up in the forest. Hot magenta, lemon yellow, maroon, and of course behind that is the throbbing-intense red. Okay, seriously, what's up with this woods? Any wood sprites gonna pop out 'n tell me what I did wrong? Anyone? No? Well then—

"look at this."

What was that? I consider turning my head; this big breath of cold air shimmies down my spine and I decide _not_ to move. Quag, bounding in front of me, working his legs like he's coming, has yet to take a real step. Oh great, now we're both failures. With that blueberry face of his stained in mossy green, cheeks sallow and puffed, eyes rung in black, I can't tell which of us must look worse. He's literally goin' sick just bein' here. And we're both stuck in place, try as we might...

Well then. I could turn. No. Nuh, shouldn't turn. Should I? Probably not. The blood in my cuts is gettin' dangerously strong with pumpin' itself out.

"i say look and you don't look. pitiful."

Big breath. I grunt. "Heck you want from me, man? Who you be? Yo, who you be?" This is getting a bit serious... I think the trees are swaying where I look now... Slowly I swallow. Doesn't do much but make me feel better, though I ain't doin' well when I look back down. The blood's poolin' round my feet now; I am one sticky mess. Oh, Jen would get mad if she saw this. Mad at me or the trees? Dunno. But—ow, they sting, they sting... try not to move.

The cold air begins turning where it breathes. Now it's inchin', inchin' round and round for my front side. Ooh, that's gonna hurt like heck when it gets into my cuts. But then, as the air moves—I can hear it. Slowly. _Clop. Clop. Clop._ Heck. Hooves. Hooves... wait. I know someone who has hooves! Ain't it—

"i want you to look at me."

Oh. Um. Hi. You responded. Heck, whaddo I say... "Ya want me to lookatchu. Hmmkay. 'fraid I can't righ' now. I move, and, yo, it's like I ain't movin'. Wanna help wi' dat?"

His voice chills me, too. Man. Wish my fur wasn't so wet; that'd prob help me. Wonder if those spines of mine'll provide "ample protection" er whatever Jen thinks they do. Heck. I roll up in my little chespin ball and I guess that helps, whatever, but I can't move a step near Quag, less shove myself into a freakin' fetal position.

Wait. Quag. I look up. He's gone.

Frick.

Because I ain't got much better to do, I cup my hands and cry: "YO, QUAAAAAAAAAG! WHERE YA AT! WHATCHA GONE TO NOW! PLEASE COME BACK, QUAG!" I'm lonely. Ghhhh. Stupid adventure squad team made me comfortable round others and nervous without. Well, wait. I've got the scary monster guy with me, right? Oh, who am I kidding? He don't count. At least, pretty sure he's a dude. I mean I think it's... well. His voice suggested a hint of manpower... I think. But it was kindsa sof' too. And plain scary. There ain't no words for that kindsa scary.

"i'm going to show you something, roland. soon."

"Oh, really? Cool..? Errr..." Whaddo I say whaddo I say... "Thanks? Thanks."

He snickers. It's low, it's dark, it's hefty—man, that is the def'nition of scary. "why, you're very welcome."

Stars spangle my vision 'fore I get a chance to question that hecking weirdo. I think—yeah... I think the blood's comin' outta me too fast... and cuz I can't stop it.. and it's goin' outta control... I might just lose my mind in the next few breaths of mine... holy heck... I never thought it would end this way... I-I mean, I guess I could see it, searchin' for Olive or something, but—

"olive."

Patches and patches of oily blackness clot over my cuts, which's prob really bad for them or somethin', but hey, I'm not complaining. The blood stops its pooling. While I do land in a puddle of my own fluid, hey, I'm still up—well down—and runnin'. I ain't dead. Magically. Magical... Quag, where the heck did you go..? For help? Llana, or whatev'? But now I'm all alone...

"you are not alone."

The breath hits my chest head-on; the guy's face, bleary and heavy, shimmers in front of me. "Gwack!" I go splat on the ground: my back hits my blood. Squirming. Oh, heck, it's all squishy and lukewarm and... so... smelly... But—but at least my cuts are blotted up with creepy black and all that jazz. That'll... help? I think it'll help. Dunno.

Though finally the guy who's tormenting me and his identity clicks in my head, and I'm not really sure how to feel at that point other than how achingly much my head spins. Horn crowned on his forehead; wavy red-and-blue hair; those sunken black eyes: heck, they're demented. Somehow I get this urge in my gut to utter his name; though everyone's warned me; though every bit of my body with any bit of sense is screaming at me.

It's like I need to. Just to prove it.

"Kyo," I croak, through the blood, through the pain, through the strange niggling thought that he knows little Olive's name...

His freakish grin in response assures me that I did the right thing. It feels like I didn't. I wonder if I'm gonna die. Am I... am I about to die? Am I... is it my time? Oh my gosh. Heck. Is it? _Is_ it? I dunno. I dunno! I'm freaking out, I know that—am I gonna die?!

Kyo only grins even more at my horror.

Slowly, grunting, he leans back without stopping me, hooves back by his feet—his grin's gettin' wider. I manage to shove myself to my toes, wipin' at my fur, at my face, at my bloodied cuts on my bloodied but blotted arms. Sigh. I scrabble my hands over my face again—just to be sure. That I look okay, righ'? That I look okay...

cuz in the corner of my eye...

there's a smaller reflection of me behind a tree. And I dunno if it's real, and I dunno if he's even alive or his body's just stuffed to make it look it or somethin', but I can't take no chances. Heck, I even could die anytime soon. No chances. I gotta know... gotta know. Whatever the heck's tormenting Kyo through his eyes just might've made some kindsa copy of my thoughts'r... some creepy thought like that. Somehow I really feel like my every step is being watched. My next screw-up could very easily be my last.

But I gotta do somethin'! Ain't gonna sit here waitin' like a lost follower to this guy. So whaddo I say... whaddo I say... "Er, Kyo." I cough in my throat. It burns now. Burns bad. "Is dat hoo I think it's gotta be?"

"and who may that be?" His teeth click together when he speaks—nah, they're sewing these words, ain't playing like no piano. _Kik kik kik kik kik kik kik kik—crushhchhhh!_ Gah.

Another feeling shoves itself up my heart. I'm waiting. He's waiting. What if I _do_ say the wrong thing? What if I mess up so bad that... Swallow. C'mon. He's gotta know you'd die for the kid. "Olive. Kyo, is that... Oli—"

"ROLLIE! ROLLIEEEE?"

Oh frick it is him.

All logic very quickly sweeps out my ear, 'n I toss myself at that little bugger. I can feel the air rustling beneath my fur, my skin, my every being peeling back as I sail through the atmosphere, cut it up and cross it for my little brother. Cuz what wouldn't I do for the kid? I'd make myself the bridge and yell at him to cross me if it got that far. I'd do anything that came to mind for him. Anything. If it saved him, if it helped him—if that's him—anything. Anything.

Cuz, frick, I love him. I love Olive. I dunno how he got here, how he made it this far, 'specially with all them sprite monsters, the black ones, but he's here, I swear he's here. Heard his squeaky kid voice, now I'm sailing into his big boy eyes: huge, bright, hopeful. Arms wide out. Cuz what wouldn't you do for who you love? What wouldn't... you do..? What wouldn't... wouldn't... you...

 _Llana_

"Hmmm!" Quagsire's tugging fingers, his big, frantic gaze. "We gotta go, right now. Commmme on." His teeth settle, grit thickly. "What went on back there..." His head jolts in place. "Nnh. Wasn't good. Wasn't good... Oh, dear..."

Breath billows past his lips, traces my face, past the others. He glances back again, face wrung with shine. With might. "F. I know you never thought the mmmmommment would commme—neither did I—but remmmemmmmber the hill you saw? That you told me about. The weird one." The victini present in front of him fiercely nods. "There's sommmething we need to see just past it. Mmhmm? Take everyone there."

She salutes, leaps back, her signal shooting through trees and bracken and entities alike: "GAWWWWWSHH, EVERYONE, LIKE, OVER HEEEEEREEE!"

Prior to my final turning moment, Quagsire's floppy hand sure over mine, I catch a flash of flint-dark irises and stumble back. Look away, very slowly, very gently removing myself from Tim's pin-pricking stare. His teeth pop out with his lips, about to tell me something—then his nerve is lost, expression plain; he turns back again.

I shudder. Quagsire tugs back on me. He mumbles something I doubt I'll catch under his breath. If he wanted me to hear it, he'd speak: these are his words and his alone. Tired droplets ring his beady orbs; Quagsire's head sags when he knows I'm more focused on the tree roots in the earth and the trials ahead.

It's not sorrow, nor is it guilt. Not anger. Not torment. Shadows coalesce upon his drooping lids, drooping lips. His cheeks oddly, I only note now, half-inflate, half sink in ugly shades of moss. Not sickness, nor agony... no, there is a shade, perhaps a pale tint of agony. But it's not agony... Quagsire, what is it? What might be ailing you thus far? He's stronger than me: he pulls rather than be pulled. But the look in his gaze...

"Quagsire..."

Grief—that's it. Grief. Loss... failure.

My stomach plummets.

"What's wrong?" My voice raises a hair above our patterning footprints. My words begin to crumble with my breath: I pant, I pant, I sigh. Quagsire... Quagsire... what ails you? Why grief? Why grief? Where's Roland? Where's Kyo?

He swallows. "Llana." Quagsire's come to mimic my own whisper. "There's something I'd like for you to remember. Something I think you should know... that you shouldn't forget. It's... rather important." Then he mutters, "And I trust you'll forgive me afterward," just loud enough for me to grasp before his words go billowing behind us. I trip upon a tree root, splutter, fall. Grit sticks to me as he pulls me back up; we go on. Trees thunder behind us, leaves whistle with our chase.

And what is it we're running for?

"Llana. Perfection is illusion.

"Please take that in stride with you."

"Uff?" I pant, breath, breath. Shake my head. Swallow. "Nnhnn... mnnnn... Quagsire..." I trust you, Quagsire... I don't know what you're saying but I... but I...

"Would you like another story?"

"A-Ahh..." Um... "Of course! I-I mean, so long as we don't stop running, yes?" Surely I'm shaking betwixt each of these breaths, but if I don't run, I may not be fast enough: and if I'm not fast enough someone could... could... Elijah. Big eyes, smiling face, whisper _I'm sorry_ , gone, gone, gone forever into the everafter above.

Qu-Quagsire's stories are perhaps strange but delightful; if he is willing to speak while running, then I am more than willing to listen.

Between puffs and tree roots and the other kinds of obstacles, slowly he relays bits and pieces that together knit a story. He starts, abrupt: "There was a beggar, once. Can you immmmagine that? What is a beggar, you mmmight think. Well. A beggar has nothing of use to himmmself. So he asks for help constantly... but it's never enough, because he isn't enough."

He coughs, just slightly. "Beggars all came in different flavors. There were the nice and funny ones that didn't mmmmmind their predicammment. There were the guilty ones who never asked for help and... well. There were also beggars with coal as hearts... this, their fuel, and their fuel pollution in their bloodstreammmms, eh?

"So anyways, these beggars... they were the ones you noticed. They used you up; then when they were done with you they went on their mmmmerry way. Hmm. They... they weren't very considerate. Coal. Coal is a fuel, not a feeling."

Quagsire, raising his big shadowy head, stares through the trees in front of us. "Coal is black, Llana. Mhmm? It doesn't mmmmmean black is coal—I doubt Ummmmbre would hurt a fly unless it came after his dear Espa. But if there is coal, the coal is black... and it's a feeling. And it follows us, even after those days. Even after back then, coal still rots. The guilty still fall into their self-done traps. And the nice and funny... why, I think they're still pretty nice, pretty funny."

"Um..." I cough. Catch my breath. "Quagsire, which one are you?" Is he any? Where does he fall in this spectrum?

Gently, slowly, those beady orbs of his slither back to mine and hold them. "I..." Big smile. "I'mmm none of themmmm." Blink. "And all of themmmmm. Hmm. I think I know which one Zoey is. You should think about it, try to figure that one out. She's one of them, but she's another on the inside... heh."

And then he's silent, so I'm silent too—after thanking him. I try to consider it, then—what would Zoey be... what might I think Zoey would be? Sh-She's not the monster... no... she's not... c-coal. No. Never. NO. Even if she is I refuse to see her as such a vile substance: though I'm sure Quagsire knows that, and he wouldn't ask such a thing if... no. She is kind... she is funny—silly, silly dear... But he wouldn't ask something so palpable. He would tell me. Dear Zoey... what are you?

 _Sqishhhh—_

"A-A-A-Aaaahh...hhh..h-hh..." I can't bring myself to look down. What am I stepping in, what am I stepping in, oh, what in the world made that vile sound? The stench catches up to me from where I stand, immobilized: pungent, foul, ceaseless. That faint, metallic tang. It rests on my tongue. Speaks fluidly to me. Asks me if I'm ready to see what's just in front of... in front of... front of...

"Shhh, Llana... hush, you poor thing..." His fingers pat mine; there is a small squeeze. His eyes don't look for me; they remain somewhere ahead. Perhaps where the rest of this—this— _sqishhh—_ blood came from. Its source... oh, who is it? Who is it already? "I knew I would be too late... oh, but I had to try... oh, dear..." He squeezes my hand again. Whispering under his breath. "I'm sorry. Really. Hoo..." Sigh.

By some force of will I manage a step. I manage another step. My one foot—dabbed in a color I refuse to see—squishes and squishes every single time. Some other force of will keeps my semi-digested food inside. I swallow, head tight, lungs pressed, something pounding very hard inside of me. I blink back whatever it is that's in my eyes, only it won't go away.

Behind and beyond the bustling of the woods, only once the shadowy comfort of foliage has passed and the snagging bristles trying to hold me back have gone... I cling to Quagsire because letting go surely means I will die. It's a feeling, useless, but it has me by the back of the neck, it's got me controlled. And he asks me, "Are you ready?" and I nod even though I'll never be ready, and even though I'd rather stop there and puke and turn tail: leave. Escape. Get me out. Away from this... this... is this reality?

Elijah's face swims across me, if by all imagining.

He asked me if I was ready, and I told him I was. So he gently, gently pulls me back in front of soft fronds, tucked up behind the happy trees and flowers: finally the crimson meets my gaze, finally the head rolling slowly off neck has come to greet me. The wounds are everywhere. The blood is spotless. It's clean. Obvious. There's so many ways he could have died, but it's so, so, so obvious.

Kyo's haunting black orbs seek me from his corner. His muzzle is stained. His forehead stained; horn, legs, hooves, tail, hair all stained.

As his rasp picks up speed and his words begin to form, I shove my fist in my hand and still the scream that comes out of me is louder.

 **The person who suggested Roland (yes, he is an OC!) goes by the name** **GMSK758!** **What she wanted the most for him was to die a gruesome death. So there you go, friend! Heheheh... Just wondering, can you tell how Roland died? He had a lot of different wounds, but his cause is a little obvious... . .koffkoffkoff.**

 **I wonder where F is taking the others~ You'll see soon, but guessing is fun too x3**

 **Elijah: sup**

 **Roland: man this sucks**

 **Elijah: I know man I know**

 **Burr: eyoooooo -peace signs all around-**

 **Elijah: burr oh my gosh why do you do this**

 **Burr: ahahahaaaa...**

 **Mina: don't be mean to him e^e**


	8. Disappear

Chapter 8: Disappear

Because no other words come to mind, because if we can't solve this problem we may as well attempt at the other, because I couldn't seem to move my feet away, away from here, quietly I ask: "How do we... you... what do we do for... for—for _him_." He's still... alive. I-I think. Oh, Vivi would be heartbroken if all of the work she pushed for this boy meant nothing in turn; no—she wouldn't be heartbroken—she'd forgive him. Of course. Is he gone? Is he not?

"Hmm... I well. I have a feeling that he's still in there sommmmewhere. The question, I'mmmm guessing, is how we get him back together again. Hmmm... Llana, try calling his name. I'll work on backup plans." Quagsire, winking so casually, gnaws at me without his lips so much as twitching.

"E-Ehhh? I-Is that such a... a wise idea, Qu-Quagsire? I mean he's—"

"Yes yes I know," he goes on, head bobbling, "I know, it sounds awful. Reaction to his name offers only the... worst of circummmmmstances. Hmm? But it's... just a thought. If I say it, I'm sure I'll be a goner; but you're... you." His fingers waggle in the air about my face. "It's only an idea. If it doesn't work, I'mmmmm sure you won't... well." The punctuation on the corpse in front of us is staggering in texture.

Slowly, I focus my breathing. If I can't breathe I may as well turn around and run now. Hand nestled over pounding heart, heart nestled under pounding head, head nestled beneath pounding soul: I sigh. "You don't think he'll... harm me?" Although—well—Tim cannot go against his... friends. Perhaps if Kyo is like him, then he can... and this is a blasphemous question.

"Don't know. Sorry. But I don't..." Gently he clears his throat; softly he says it again: "Mmmmaybe it'll help if you try his name. Er... Just try it? I know I'mmmm not divine, of sorts, but if you need help... you can count on mmmme." The glistening in his gaze, although feverish, provides the truth in his muttering.

Sigh. "Um... okay... I-I'll try... we-we'll see how it goes."

I shuffle forward; Quagsire's lingering figure stays snug just beside me. Cough. He nods. Encouragement. Deep breath. I sigh again. Come on. Come on. Don't look into his eyes—no—it makes me feel self-conscious. "He-Hello, there?" No response from the shivering mass in front of me. Unfortunately, though expected, nothing from the corpse either. I can... wish. "Ky—"

The eyes in his head shift toward me.

"Ky—"

Oh, now the words won't come out! Roland, why did—why did you—Llana, say it already! Say it!

"U-Um..." Focus, focus. Don't be shy... "Ky—ohhh..." Close enough, I suppose. Those orbs of his glitter in recognition of that sound; chills bump like bruises along my body, like that stare punches me, he's punching me, he's hurting me now. But he's—he's not. Least... not at this time. Not—

 _pmmmph... pmmmph._

Oh goodness he's moving. I nearly scream. Quagsire's hand squeezes against mine, I try not to go lightheaded like the bumbling fool I so wish I could be.

 _Pmmf. Pmf-pmf-pmf-pmf. Pmf-pmf. Pmf!_

Crusted blood peels from his grisly hooves. The stare in his gaze staggers toward me, aligned by his step. Where he moves, a whiff of filth follows. I try not to choke. Truly—truly I'm trying. Bile rises up in my throat—no—no—no— _get back—get back, get back, get back_.

Otherworldly measures hold the vomit down my stubborn esophagus.

Sputtering. "Llana. Ooh—easy, Llana. Let's try for a step back, mmmhmm?" Wordlessly I follow the man; later I might wonder if I'd follow Kyo, had it been him, all the same.

A game of whispers spears betwixt us then.

"Qua-Quagsire... Quagsire... what's he... what's he..."

"It must do with Timmmmm... with his precarious little situation."

"O-Ohh... I'm scared, I'm scared... I'm sorry—I'm just—I don't want another to... how do we—how do we..."

"I wonder if Timmm would hinder or harmmmmm at this timmme."

"Wh-Wh-WHY?"

"He followed us."

Oh. By now I'm not surprised. He must be a shadow of mine. Rustling behind our backs—leaves scraping by us—the sharp cold of claws rippling just above my shoulder—soft fur quickly replaces it. His hand. Again with his hand.

Tim's quiet rumble saturates us in place. "Llana. Hello... Quagsire. Nice to see of you. It appears a friend of yours has gone quite under the weather, and once again it's the fault of my own. Sincere apologies. Llana, I believe that"—the hand of his on my shoulder tightens, squeezes—"if you were to speak with him again, calmly, softly, like you have as per usual, you may see a difference in his attitude."

"O-Oh, may I? Are you sure?" I'm sorry; I'm sorry; quietly I bite at my tongue; but I can't help questioning him, whether his recent help has saved me and others or no.

Soft sigh. "I'm as sure as I am that I love you."

My body goes rigid.

"Ye-Yes... of course, Tim. I believe you..."

This isn't the first time he's confessed this. I doubt I will ever grow soft to the whisper of his deep, dark tones uttering those words—for anyone—for _me—_ but I can expect now. Yet have I to even begin my understanding, be his words muddle clear as love, and still these words are true. I know they are. If they weren't—he's had more chances than he's Zoey to kill me. He could kill me right now. He's supposed to kill me. Kill me. It's how this... should work... no? Prior to our meeting our magics of sorts soil the earth; and afterwords we meet, and one of us is to die; only then the other goes as well. I can't even remember who first told me this. It's been too long; too many have repeated and fluctuated those depths.

Because Quagsire proffers no other ideas and there is not much of a chance I'll think up anything better, I go again at my trial. "It is nice to s-see you again, Kyo." I bite my tongue; don't stutter, don't stutter. "It's a very... very ni...ce day today, no? It's... warm... outdoors. And we all"—don't look at the corpse don't look at the corpse—"are waiting for... for you to join us."

Is that something? Does that count? Surely whatever has been going on and occasionally stirring within Kyo is stronger than little monsters like the rodent creature and its ilk. Stronger. I cannot even begin to guess how much of these I can take. I did—once—manage to unravel the demise of a munna. But was she even that strong? Am I still so weak?

Tim's fingers gently squeeze my shoulder.

At a point, I begin talking again. I'm not quite sure what I'm saying: still the keldeo nods, nods, eyes thick and bleary. The glass in his gaze that stares back at me cannot so much as hold a reflection. But when I nod, he nods, and though I've stopped with the sense he continues his nodding. Good, good. Good... oh, goodness... why did he end Roland? What overcame him to... what vile force came in and...

It's not completely gone. I can wipe and he can nod all he wants, but there's smudges like prints of fingers gouging after him. I didn't... didn't expect so much ink as it was to come off of his once-blue gaze; anything at all, even pebbles of bits, is enough. Gently I sag against Tim, his thick and soft fur swooning all about me, surprisingly soft, without blood... without the chill of his claws...

"Good job, Llana. Hmm!" Quagsire's hand returns round my wrist; he squeezes and gently pulls me away from... from him. I know Umbre has called him a beast—few times—mostly joking—but I cannot bring myself to. He's still... I don't know. But Quagsire pulls me back and the cruel kicking, throbbing in my heart begins to ebb. "Let's go lead, mmm, you-know-who back now, mmhmm?" Gentle pulling, forceful leading. I follow back behind without so much as another thought.

Tim watches us clasp by the half-collapsed keldeo. His own gaze, glittering black onyx—black it has been and black shall it always be—pinches from where he stares. His tongue, small and pink, slowly glides out, runs over his lip, disperses. He's tall and fearsome just by the way he holds himself at times, only now he's practically torn just as much as the emotionally-crashed one who... ki-ki-ki-killed the other by our side.

Staring back, one hand on Kyo's head and the other reaching toward him, Tim and I play a dumb little game, that waiting game: who will look away first.

It's me.

I stepped in—a—piece—of—Roland—and looked away. I wanted to cry. Really bad. Really hard. Tim saw me cry when Elijah died, he saw me cry when in front of my very own eyes Mina's wounds forced her over dead. He may have been there when I found Burr's remains; and we all were present at the time of... of Gaurdio's... What does he think when he sees me... what does he think when my eyes overflow? What did he think when he killed the boy I had loved, and what does he think now... now that he wants to... help me?

Quagsire's fingers swoon over with fresh bubbles and gently scrub away the goo. I nigh go sick again.

We lead Kyo back. The walk is silent, the walk is cold, I shiver more than I wish I would. Tim, from my other side—he then Quagsire then me then Kyo—continuously pierces that cold gemstone stare of his toward me; I fend myself off, look at Kyo, look at Quagsire, look at anything that isn't him.

I didn't cry because of him. And I didn't cry because I was disappointed in him. He's... changed. Somewhat. This more or less wasn't the will of his bidding. He didn't... search out Kyo and... it was... it was just as it happened. Perhaps it shall end; for now only time will tell; but I wish and I wish for Vivi's poor soul; perhaps one day he shall waken and see her again.

After a time, as the stone cut beneath the foot, Tim is the one to ask: "Where, may I know, are we heading?"

"Mmh? You didn't know?—oh yeah, you didn't know." Big breath. "Llana, please don't go shy on us, the others are waiting ahead somewhere, but we're about to enter..." And pause.

I stir. I murmur, "Quagsire, we are about to enter..?"

"Hmmm? I changed mmmmy mmmind. It's a surprise."

"E-EHhh..." Um... "Sure."

Kyo stirs as well. If but for a moment. "A good... surprise?" His whisper is pained and does not turn up again in the banter.

"Yes, Kyo, yes! A good surprise, hmm-hmmmm!"

I sigh. "Ho-Hooray... W-Wonderful..."

Quagsire laughs. A soft laugh. "Poor Llana." Gentle squeeze, and a softer laugh. A laugh for all of us, one we all must need by this point. Kyo, for his state of mind and of what he has done. Tim for what he caused and his wishes to end such deeds only for their return. Himself for perfection and a silent blessing to Mary's good health. Me for... I worry. I worry a lot. I don't want them to... to keep...

Tim asks me what is the matter and I try to ignore him, only then I feel guilty, so I tell him, really them all, very quietly that it's just I miss Roland. And I'm scared for Jen. And I'm scared for Olive, the "liver" not a "dier" whom the n-n-now dead one ssss-ss-sso wished to seek. Who may still be out there as we all are now...

Silence, then. Blissful, beautiful silence. I learn then that walks are unbelievably slower when they're taken walked instead of ran like prior. They seem to stop with time, stop with the shadows and the fear—and the night just outside the roof of our trees and their leaves. It's not as... not as scary. But that may be for the males around me and their powers that far surpass mine. Although mine are surpassed by all, so... but that is fine. I am... d-different. My thoughts wander; I smile time to time; I think and hope the best for dear, sweet Zoey.

Then the speck of golden yellow comes barreling through the bark. There is a call, a very happy call, and the big yellow face, scaly and clean, comes bringing us grins. "Guuuyyssssss! Have you seen? Have you seeeeeen? Just ahead, it's just ahead! Oh, my gosh, guys, I didn't even think—and yet—it is! Come, come, come!"

His wings flutter with impatience. And because he is dear to my heart, and the poor thing's face is too sweet to soil, I hold my tongue and go after him. The others follow; after Bay, after Bay and his precious, smiling face.

"It's really, really awesome! I know you'll love it as much as I always have!"

"Bay," oh I can't help it, "Bay, what is it?"

"Come, come! Man, Mynisscah is gonna _love_ you! Just, she doesn't know yet, so be nice to her..."

"Ba-Baaayyy?" What is he—what is he—I pant, I pant, go after with a sudden new burst of speed. His joy is infectious, and it has bit me more than I could keep track.

There it is. I can tell by the halt and dressing of grace and stead Bay takes to walk soon after. There's a hollow, trees crunched and buried about it, some up and living and some logs far gone. Bits of sap fill in holes and reflect the sun's undulation. There's leaves like parts of a roof; the place is positively, warmly spacious. Still the corners stuff with berries and nuts and bushels; our group has come and huddled toward this big middle area.

And in front of them sit yellow little mammals, white-topped faces and bellies with the back black and soft. Big eyes; one pair brown, another blue, another dark just like—just like— _him_. I try to bite my lips together, try not to tremble in their presence.

Softly I whisper from the side of my lip, "Bay, is this your... your family?"

Giggle. "You got it! I dunno how we're gonna tell Elijah's mom about his managing to get a girl, at least for some time... and how we'll..." He smiles, though it's a somber one, through the silent wording of his best friend's... end. Oh, Bay...

Just as softly I try to explain the whereabouts of today. "You-know-who gone mad" and "Roland's head" and "Quagsire and I tried but" and "too late, too late" and "Tim." And he's quiet again. And how can I blame him? Slowly like behind a cloud, again his smile flickers, no matter how small and how forgotten it will come to be.

"I'll tell the others for you. Jen should... wait a little bit, at least. Now please. We've all met them... um... go speak with his parents. With his sister. They'll _love_ you." His voice has trembled off into a whisper, yet still it's a strong whisper, one promising light and redemption again one day. And off he hops, and I try not to cry.

The one with the blue eyes is the one to come and greet me—the one with the brown has already wandered off somewhere. But she, with the small one with the dark eyes holding her hand, she only bits taller than me, she offers this gentle, flowery welcome. "Why, hello. I believe... you must be... Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry but I seem to have misplaced your name... though Bay talked of you and dear Eli bunches..."

Wrinkles bunch by her eyes, little smile wrinkles. "I'm... I'm Llana. The, um... the one who's... supposed to... 'save everyone,' I-I guess." I sound so quiet. So still. It's surreal. I never thought... for the life of me, I never thought...

"My name is Mynisscah. Yes, it's a... bit of a mouthful. Ah," she goes off into a little, tinkling laugh. "They called you small and cute, little friend-saver. Dear, you look to be falling off your toes." Her nose bunches in a way similar to Vivi's own. I blink. "Would you wish to rest now?"

"I-I..." Splutter. "In a moment, please. I... believe I have words to share with you. But—ah... how could I... um..." Splutter, turn. "Who is this little one?"

Big eyes, like her big brother's. Little smile; huge, fluffy body. She holds onto her mother's hand like it is the most precious thing in the world. "This, dear, is Nayomi. Naaaayomi... and Eliiijah... and Myniiisscah. And Daaaarubi—their father, you see. He's pent up on foraging and being ready in case things get out of hand..." Again another little smile. She bends over. "Here. Nayomi, could you do Mommy a favor, please, and say hello to Llana?"

The tiny thing's mouth paws open, only no sound ensues.

Another warm motherly smile. "She must be nervous. Apologies, Llana. She's an awkward little girl, heh. But she's so warm and fun to hold. A sweet little one." As if her mother summoned the words, the little thing lifts her tiny fingers and paws at her mother, who then proceeds to scoop her into the air. "Very sweet..."

"Um... Miss?"

"Oh, please, just Mynisscah... or, well Minnie is fine, too, dear."

"Er... Mi-Minnie, um, I believe Bay wanted me to let you know that..." How do I... oh, this is s-so embarrassing... "I was... um... with Elijah. F-For a time. He's sweet... a little cocky at first, but... charming. Sweet."

Gently she laughs. "Yes, dear Eli was always that way..." Her blue gaze encircles mine, waiting— _I was with Elijah—I was with—was—was—was_.

I try to settle myself. Try to convince myself this is right, and it would be wrong to lie. And she's so sweet... but if Elijah wasn't around here with Bay, and a girl he apparently liked at one time _was_ with him, then... "I'm... I'm sorry. Elijah... he was protecting me... he... the monsters... E-Ehh... H-He died a ve-very noble death, M-Miss. I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

And then I fall to my knees and sob in front of the woman who was the mother of the boy I loved. These thoughts, vile little things, ask me, ask me, was it my fault he died? Would he have lived if I never grew close to him, never felt wordless beauties with him—would he have lived, then? Would Tim have bothered? Only I don't know, because it was this way, not any other, a-and while I'm thankful for the time we shared, here I am, bawling. And _she's_ right here... right here...

Whispers. I can't tell how I caught them.

"Mommy, see? I told you... I was right, Mommy... I said that... I had a... a dream... and I said he..."

"Yes... yes you did, dear. I'm... only sorry it was true."

"It's okay, Mommy. I'm all cried out, anyways... I already cried for Brother..."

"Yes... Dear, yes..." Soft coughing. "I could only expect as much... seeing Bay here without my son. I... I understand."

Crouching in front of her... I don't know... I don't know. I don't know what to say... I feel... I feel like... I feel awful... oh... I recall when I did see Elijah, once, after I found the passing of Burr and Mina and by some stellar extent he showed—dead yes—a ghost of sorts—but he found me... for just some time. Stella was there; I can pin reason to her. But he didn't deserve to... deserve to die... especially not like that, not by sabotage and not by Tim, such cause not even evident until some time after his passing...

For a fleeting moment, I do ponder on that—Nayomi's dream. But it's quickly swept away. I don't know. I don't, truly—it could mean anything. I wish Elijah wasn't dead. But he is. I can't change that. Tim can't change that—I ponder if he'd even _want_ to, saying that I... I did love him. I loved Elijah before his... his passing.

Kind fingers pat upon my head; fluffy footsteps sound in her departure. "Nayomi, you can stay here if you'd like... I only need to let your father know..."

Oh... It's not like it's tru-truly my fault, I suppose... no matter if it feels like it, and I want to think so. And either way, as I keep chanting, this mantra in attempt to keep me alive, he is dead. He can't come back. Nothing shall change from this glossing over of the event. I thought I'd let it go... yet it's easy to send it back.

Tugging in my hand. "E-Ehhh... Lluh... Lluh...umm... mi-miss, who's dat?" The fingers squeeze, pull, alert my ears to the sloshy footsteps. "Is it a friend?" I try to nod.

"Yes... yes... she's very special... special to me." It's surprising how hard it is to stifle whimpers and silence hiccups. "She is a friend. Yes... I-I think you'll like her..." and then here I go, mumbling in my royal tone, off to sob in the dirt in front of me. That is, until her shadow follows me, tiny droplets from her pelt hitting me like rain, like tears, and her body plops down beside me.

Perhaps I'm not looking but I can tell she smiles. "Why, hello there, little one! You're... oh gosh... Nao... Nayo... Nayon... no no, Nayomi, that's right, isn't it!" Little child giggles follow her statement. "Yes, that's it. Heh. So now you've met Llana. She's a... a... very emotional one. Excuse her crying. She's good at that. But she's so cuuuute tooooooo!"

Her body stuffs itself behind mine, arms hooked round me, head on my shoulder. "Least, I think she's cute. And that's what matters, isn't it! That I think she's cute! Hwah! And I _do_! And I... and I do. What do you think of Llana, li'l Nayomi?"

"Uh—um! She likes Brother!"

"Hmmmm? heh—hehhhh! Yes, she reaaaally liked Brother! He was a good egg, that Brother... heheheheh..." Zoey's sly fingers slip down my spine. They clasp by me, hold me close. "Yes, those were nice and different times, when she liked Brother...

"But these are nice and different times too, Nayomi! It's real nice to've met you today. You have no idea how much happier it made Bay! Eheheh... and, er, he told me about... what happened before you got here, but... hey. It's... it's a little better here, at least for now."

When I manage to glance upwards, Zoey tiny smile meets my eyes; she giggles, just softly. Bright ocean orbs swim just in front of me, she just by me—then Nayomi's tugging fingers, again found in the palm of my hand. I turn, scales shifting, and her big dark orbs, so like to Elijah's, meet mine.

"Are you talking about the monsters?"

We splutter. Zoey raises herself, squeaks, "What? Yes? Yes! Um... I'm guessing you poor guys've been around them longer than us..."

"The monsters aren't scary... they don't come near." And Nayomi's big, murky orbs wash upon us, her soft head tilted, little smile suggesting there's something we have yet to comprehend about her. About... Elijah, even. We knew him for so long and yet for so short... Whatever the little thing has hidden in her gaze, she won't share it, won't say it. "They just stay away. That's it." And she blinks. It's simple.

Zoey and I exchange glances. "Cool." She shrugs. "That's, um, real cool, Nayomi. Cuz the monsters are kinda scary, see? Our friend Jen can tell you about it... she's been worried about this guy, Roland, who's been worried about his li'l brother, Olive... and then this all kinda pooled together into a... mess. A little oopsy. So that's real cool that you aren't getting disturbed by the meanies. That's... nice."

We look at each other again. A bit of blush has wound its way upon Zoey's cheeks. I may look similar. Bewildered. I wonder... or perhaps they don't pose much of a threat, so there's not quite enough reason to...

What did Elijah do to get himself killed? I-I understand Burr and Mina were disturbing the d-darkness or whatever, Gaurdio was protecting from... from... Roland—Roland didn't... oh, what will we tell Jen? What about his brother? What about any of it..?

"Olive."

Oh. Of course she's interested in someone mentioned as younger. Her age. Perhaps. I never met Olive, but... I suppose they could be of similarity. I try to look into her big eyes when I tell her, "Yes. Olive. I believe he's a sweet boy. You could be friends... once we, um, find him. Roland was searching for him—the brother—older brother—only..."

"Only..?"

Children... ah... "H-He was... he was... I—ahhh..." I can't say it, can't say not, not again, not again...

A soft presence cups my lips. White fingers. "Hey, um, Nayomi?" The white fingers lead back to a thin, white arm. "You see, Roland, he was going to save his brother, but," the arm leads back to the body pressed against me, "I'm afraid that can't happen anymore." Sigh. Her rumbling whispers tremble, following her bloodstream from heart to body to arm to fingers, the fingers situated upon my lips. "See, the monsters... like us. They like us a lot. So we have to make them go away, but we can't do that forever."

Perfection is illusion.

"But it's okay. You're okay, and we're okay right now. So don't worry!" She smiles as her fingers leave my lips and squeeze my shoulder.

Nayomi's big eyes follow our movements; she stops, bewildered, when we rest upon each other. When we stop. "Why don't you stay? It's safe here. You should stay."

Those big orbs of her, wobbly, glassy, full of thoughts that reflect what once went on in Elijah's head: they won't leave us. So warm that it's nigh stifling. So quiet its silence coats me. And I feel bad, suddenly, like a bloody stab to my heart with a claw, a very specific claw of a specific timburr. I feel bad that we have to leave, have to go on. But if we stay and intrude upon her mother's home, perhaps there is safety, but even after the awkward sense and feeling of guilt—at least I will feel it—afterword... there will only be more monsters. Stronger? Could they... do that?

Tim wouldn't be pleased. N-Nor would I.

Zoey wouldn't be pleased if I wouldn't. Vivi would follow in our steps. It's palpable how gleeful Bay is, how much he'd rather die than walk in the darkness. Still he stands, dear Bay; and beside him, although scared, would be Jen. Is there any other path Vivi or F would tread? Because I can't even see Umbre trying to enjoy a void where not even he would feel at home, I know he wishes to end it as well. Espa by his side. Their child alongside them, their child coming... And so long as it's not safe, Ember wouldn't feel safe; neither would Cheeka, especially not Cheeka.

How ma-many more will die before it is over? No, no... shh... I cup my head in my hands, hiding beside Zoey... shivering... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... to everyone...

"Aw... Llana, you're scarin' Nayomi... you poor things." Her gentle voice drops. The waves by the shore go slowly... sloping... somber... "It's okay, Llana... stop, please. It's like... you're blaming yourself for things you had no play in. Heh. Tim's like your twin, in a way... and it's okay... it's okay... it's okay..."

Softly... softly... Her voice cocoons me, voice warm and sweet, her saltwater accent for once without sting. And I try to stay calm... I try to find joy in the fact that she is here... and those still alive, they are here... while those who never... made it... the-they are still there, only above...

I'm thankful for them...

I wonder if Gerald likes them... I-I know Stella does... but I want to know if Gerald is friends with them... with my dearly departed friends who now share space with them...

Perfection is illusion... but that doesn't mean I want it to be that way... not always... not always...

 **Sad stuff... a little bit ;w;**

 **I don't know why, but I'm craving some F time... only other important character things are supposed to happen first, so I guess I'll have to wait.**

 **F: well gawsh, can you get any more disappointing? Like, can't I have some screen time? Like, gawwsh.**

 **Jen: Y-You were in chapter one with me...**

 **(oh, and no, Jen doesn't know yet that Roland's... you'll be able to tell when she does!)**


	9. Don't Leave Me

Chapter 9: Don't Leave Me

 _Tim_

It was my fault. My fault. My fault... I can't stop myself. I can't hold it in me, I can't, it's horrible, I am horrible. Control isn't real... control is... control is...

Softly I sigh. My hands stay interlocked behind me. I don't want to look at them... don't want to think about the red I've ripped out and painted on them, these tools so easily used to stab into the organs of others, to peel apart their red interiors like the petals of a flower. Sickening. Yes. I am sickening. It is all sickening. My claws, clinking together, they sicken me. Their song is awful, and yet it rules me. Sickening.

What might it feel like to own one's free will..? What may it be like to be the one who decides the rules of their own life?—to choose who they want to be, to fill in their role as they so wish? They can be this sickening if it is what they so desire. 'haps it be Llana cannot control herself, either. But she's better. She simply is. They like her. They all like her. They don't like me. But even if I do realize this, even if I so wish to change—

 _plip... plip... plip..._

The red tears fall behind me; I swallow.

I want to stop. I need to stop. I beg it with my every bit of being. Cease the tearing, cease the breaking, fill again with the togetherness of fellowship... something. Anything. I don't care. Not this. How can I love someone, how can I even consider the sensation, when all I do is destroy? I've tried things to stop it, to get it out of my head. Closing my eyes, hands over face. Breathing. Thinking nothing but the next bit of air I can snag into my lungs. I've tried leaving, running as far, far away as I can into the deepest bit of wilderness I can find. And staying. Staying until it's over.

But I can't stop. I need it more than I need ending; I need it more than I need her. It's a feeling, an urge, a claw of a fist in my heart, squeezing, squeezing need through my bloodstream. And it doesn't end. It subsides, slows, but it doesn't... it doesn't... I feel mad. Insane. Crazy.

Llana, Llana, I swear. I swear I didn't mean to kill them. I swear I didn't mean to lay a finger on anyone. Oh yes, I know, it was my fault, it was all my fault, but I didn't mean it, it wasn't what I wanted to do. How I wish I could hide... hide somewhere... never return... but the monster I am will still drag me back here, perhaps to pick them off once again, one by one by one until only she's left and perhaps I will kill her too—no. No, no, no... small breaths dominate me. I don't want to hurt Llana. I don't want to hurt what means so much to her... I don't want to hurt her but I do.

Is there not a soul out there I can ask for _help_? My head spins. I feel sick again. Sickening. That's me, that's all me. The drops of blood stain me from my fur to the body within to the soul deep, deep down inside of me. If I even have that. Can I have such a will when I have no control? What... what am I?

Which makes me wonder sometimes... what is Llana, then? And what am... what am I? If I am a monster, where does that put her? A... a savior? Dare I say some form of a god? No... I never think so. She is so noble, but nothing so... the other legends we know pale in comparison to her. I don't even know. But I want to. I want to understand her and in perhaps some way understand myself. But she's important to me... so, so important. I wish I didn't scare her. I wish I wasn't a monster. I wish I didn't kill anyone, didn't feel such a need to.

Zoey is lucky.

Quagsire and Mary... I wish instead I was more in similarity to them. Instead of... instead of...

But I'm not. Wishing succeeds in nothing but the turmoil of my own inescapable body. Control is... control is... I live in chaos. Slow breathing, slow whispering to myself. "Why..?"

Tell her... or not to tell her. She may not figure out. It's not like... not like Roland. Not like I killed F or killed Ember or any of her dear little crew. If I don't tell her perhaps she will never know... except... oh, dear, why. Still, if I killed... no, no, if I can think this clearly, I don't want to... don't want to... kill anyone else. It solves problems but shreds more openings after stitching only one. It ruins further with each try of mine. And then I wonder, quietly, what am I, if I am not killing?

Ah—there is something else inside of me, right? Llana is more than a beautiful, glowing entity.. sh-she has personality, and she sparks interest in her friends. Some of them call her cute. They have befriended her and... she is something. Something. I would so believe, yes. But all I know is killing... all I... all I know...

If I'm nothing... nothing else...

Gaurdio's grunt, accompanied by a grin. Lifting bits of material for construction. Homes. Structure. Safety.  
Burr, that brown-furred, blockheaded bloke. I called him brother. There was a time. He smiled too much, sang too loudly. Oh, he loved to sing. And he cared about me.  
Mina smiling, laughing at me. Laughing at Burr. Strong. She was stronger than all of us, I think, in more ways than I could name.

There are times when I want them back. When I—when I want to beg and cry and yell at the world, I'm sorry, I want to change, please give them back to me. Only these wishes ravage my pathetic soul. The urges inside of me have control over me, the sudden surging yearn to do this, do this, claws thick and sharp enough, head thick and dull enough, unable to think, unable to see her poor little face in front of me crying when I put those wounds in Elijah and left him to die. They won't come back. If I died, I would see them again, but they won't be happy about...

Do they still see me in the same light? Have I changed?—have I soiled the opinions they once held for me? A... sad thought. And it is. It is a sorrow to me... I only wish—but I can't. Oh, no, I can't. Do I have to tell Llana? I suppose her own thoughts on me can't get that much... that much darker. But she was believing in me, she was giving me chances and I soiled them with the blood of my latest victims. What will she think of me telling her? She might never know if... She might never know if... no, no, she will. I-I think she will.

If not she, then Zoey. Every time those big blue orbs of hers fall upon me I think she must directly see through me. She must know my regrets, my fears, and the stacks and stacks of each and every corpse I ever touched. She knows very well by now that I yearn for Llana too... very much... and I know how Zoey feels about me. She hates me.

Oh, dear, yes. Yes I should tell her. But... try not to... not to be too prolonging about it. Try to tell her how much I yearn for _her_ , not the thing I am, not the killing, not this monster... It is hopeless. I see this. But the only way I can end this hopelessness is if... if I kill her. It will kill me... I don't know what the world we leave behind may look, but... I sigh.

Where is she now? I... I want Llana.

I need to tell her... let her know... at the very least... I don't know if she'll tell any of the others—forbid she tell the poor dunsparce—but I... I need to at the least tell her. Llana. Llana. And here I am. I can't stop thinking about her.

Gently I raise myself past these boulders and past these overhangs—after the woodlands came a desert-like extreme. I don't...question it. Sand pelts against me, just softly; I shake myself, spit the particles from my lips. There, ahead, the silhouettes of she and her friends await. Not specifically for me. Was it Vivi or Quagsire in attempt to craft a river of sorts? Yes. Thirst. Mortals desire their thirst... Llana could last without it; she must be afraid to try. I don't blame her. When I met Burr... when I met the others after him, I was afraid too, because they needed their nourishment before I...

Coughing. If a drink is provided, one would be welcome. Gently I call, "Llana... Llana." Shake my head. Search more. "Llana... where are you, Llana?" Yes, I know, my voice is not loud enough to attract much attention; I only want her besides. "Llaaaanaaaaa..."

From somewhere I feel those sapphire eyes cutting. Shake of the head. Call again. Llana, Llana, Llan—

Ah.

Hands I leave tight by my back, nigh stuffed in the black fur. Good, good. The blood is almost blown away... Almost gone, almost gone. Her bright brown eyes turn toward me: it's a small sacrifice I live with to ignore the unnerve lying there. Small twist of the lip, pale scales about her cheeks blushing. She raises a hand to her head and squints. Blinks. "E-Ehhh... Tim, what is it?" she whispers. That soothing voice... touch of a regal taste...

Do I have to tell her?  
Yes. Yes. I do. Tell her.

I wonder why I must... but... then... if Zoey or she or someone does find what I have done... then she will only have further reason for distrust. Come on... come on... she's right there... her presence directly in front of me... bright and hypnotic, edges tinged in that... light... right there... My thoughts wander back to the claws on my hands, the bloodstains rotting them, the aura of black surrounding me. Nothing to her aureole. Tim... just...

"Llana. I... I'm sorry."

Already the fear rounds her eyes. "What is it, Tim..? What... a-ails you?" Her green-tinged arms, scales sparkly in the light, knit together in front of her chest. Her eyes so wide... thoughts so worrisome... oh... oh, why am I without... without... why is Control the one who uses, who abuses Me? Why am I Nothing?

"I... I'm sorry. Llana, I... I can't stop it. I can't..." Teeth gritting. Breath bating. "I don't want to. I wish I could show you how... much I don't want to. But I do. And I can't stop it. Please understand, I..." And what _did_ you _do_ , _Timmm_? Will you ever _tell her_? Oh, I can hear the voice of that foul rodent in my ears all over again... with his nonsense speaking and the fear—the fear that fills Llana. Already her eyes are barreling over the ones who are here, silent muttering to herself—they're here, they're here, they are, then who...

Once her gaze returns to me—missing not a soul—I can't... I can't hold it back. If I never tell her... "Oh, Llana... really... I'm sorry. I...

"His family." She knows who. She knows very, very well who. "Yes, his family, his mother, his—oh, they're dead, they're all dead, corpses... rotting corpses... I killed them, I killed them... I killed them... Llana, I killed them... I'm sorry... I wish I was better, I wish, I wish—but it won't... it won't... I'm a monster." Her lips, without air, form into the shape of a little moue of horror.

Still her eyes follow the way my hands folded back point. Sitting, connecting behind me. She watches. She waits. Face red and bleary—all my fault, all my fault. I'm sorry. "Tim? What is... are you..."

It's hard to hear her through the blood in my ears. Come on, come on... breathe, breathe, breathe... I close my eyes so she won't see how I feel when I wring my hands around, when I show her my—little—find. I'm...

Her squeak lets me know when she's seen it. I swallow. I breathe—I really try to. Breathing helps me focus, makes me feel more... more like her friends. More like Zoey. Less than the creature I've turned myself into. I breathe through my lips and out comes my words: "She's... she's not dead. I know. She's covered in blood. It's... it's not her blood, Llana, it's not, I swear. She's alive. Asleep, I think. But I didn't... I... a-ah..."

"Nayomi." There it is. Her voice is strained. I strained it. "Nayomi, little Nayomi... she's... e-eh... Quagsire's al-almost done with the water... almost... e-eeehh... u-umm... Tim."

"Yes." I am afraid.

"You didn't kill her."

"No... no I didn't."

"You didn't kill her. She's still... you didn't kill all of them. They're not all... his li-little sister, she's still..."

Why is she defending me? Even in the slightest—why is—why would she even consider—Llana..?

I killed them... I still killed... them... Ll-Lla...na...

She's too much...

 _Umbre_

Slender, lilac fur and gem-like eyes. A ruby adorning her head like a crown. That brisk little trot of hers that's too cute, way too cute to be allowed in my presence because I die seeing it, it's so cute. Her blush. Her squeaks. Squeals—too. Precious. They're all so very, very precious to me. When my eyes turn toward her—big and red and smiling—her lip turns up in a little Espa grin. A smug little Espa grin. I sigh.

She's my Espa. We've been through... lots of fun together. Pff. Fun. I say fun but it wasn't fun at all, I was running for my life as she ran for her life because she forced me to go with her. Because she wanted the company. It wasn't her fault—tiny eevee herself at the time—just as admittedly small as me. It was her parents'. Them and their manors and their big, fancy plans. Freakin' idiot heritage that didn't have anything to do with eevees. So far as they knew.

Whatever.

She's safe. I'm safe. But whatever the heck about me, _she's_ safe.

Luna and Kinks... if her parents could see us now... pff. Never would've guessed that their dear Luna would end up the day runner when we escaped... I the night runner... she on my back... me the umbreon, she the espeon... well, we had to change our names to somethin'! Luna would attract too much attention, but then she demanded I change mine too, _Kinks is a bad name for someone like you_ or whatever.

Luna... Espa... the pink feline just in front of me. They're all the same: my precious gem.

Her belly's growing. Oh, gosh, it's really growing! There's gonna be a kid... a kid's gonna come out of that belly... and yeah, that'll be fun I guess, being a dad—especially cuz she'll be with me... but I care about her. I care about Espa... my dearest Espa...

Tim kidnapped me once. It was bad. Middle of the night. No one saw it. Espa didn't wake. Just those filthy, bloody claws on my maw, an alley-oop, and I was gone. He almost killed me. Nearly. I managed to escape—and then _Espa herself, belly and all_ , in his claws in some stupid attempt to save me. Oh, sweet, sweet Espa... don't do that please, not anymore, oh you'll terrify me.

Her ear—left ear. Her left. My current right. Shredded horizontally, the top of it missing. Torn. Oh, bloody, pulpy, mess, he cut off her ear at some point. She tells me, face all tender and scrunchy—cuteness levels overpowering—oh, it's okay, doesn't hurt, almost the same. She'd rather run into that trap and lose both ears than find my corpse. Whatever. Espa, don't do that. Don't scare me like that. I have to be okay for you. I'm not going anywhere.

She says she's okay, but...

"Espa?" Soft flutter of a whisper. Soft like her fur when I rest by it... soft, silky Espa...

She twitches. Ears fan, well, as much as they can with that lopsided left one. I hate that Tim marred it. Just an ear, yeah, but _Espa's_ ear. "What? Umbre, did you say something? I swear I heard some muffled..."

I raise. Big, fat, black tail twitches behind me. Turning round, and doing just that: resting my muzzle into her fur, just the fur around her neck. It's warmest there. She won't admit it but that's her favorite place to be kissed—I mean, it's obvious, so. "Nothing, darling. Just your name... just your name."

"Um-Um-Umbre..." I can feel all that heat collecting off her cheeks. Oh, so precious... precious girl. I love how easily she gets embarrassed. It's too cute. I admit sometimes I try her temper because I like seeing that look on her, all flustered and adorable. She tries to be cool and calculated but the smallest things get her nervous, sweet thing. She can't sleep at night if the baby starts moving round in her.

It's gonna be a girl.  
Tiny daughter.  
Mini Espa...

The thought of it gets to me. Oh, I'm hopeless around her, hopeless to my beloved Espa.

"You know," I whisper, voice low, "you don't have to get all embarrassed now. It's only us. I chose this area for a reason! Heheheh... can't you tell?"

Her squeaking. I want to bottle it up and hold it in my heart forever, oh my goodness. "I-It's not my fault you make me this way!"

"Yeah, it's both our faults, isn't it~"

"Um-Ummbree..." She's gotten softer too. Maybe it's because of the baby. Maybe it's continuous living with me. I don't know. I love her. I love Espa, and I love Luna, and I love the glittering beauty in front of me, all of it. All of her. Dear Arceus, all of her.

She goes a little quiet. My forepaw goes sliding up by hers, just nuzzled against it. It's warm, too. Warm with her blood, her flesh, her life... her soul. Why, hello, eternal beauty. My toes wiggle about by hers. It makes her squeak, somewhat giggle, and then she stifles it. Makes me laugh in turn, which then gets her to squeak yet again—and she flops to the earth and I flop with her.

Still when I pour my eyes toward her lilac crystals—she turns back. Muted. Hmph. I don't like her feeling sad. "Espa, dear, what is it? Feeling troubled again?"

"Oh... Umbre..." Blush. I push my paws near hers again. She doesn't notice. Heheh... Espa... "Um. You notice as usual... I am still feeling a bit bothered. Bit... burnt out, I suppose." She shakes her head, bits of lavender and pink highlights tossed about in sparklies of loveliness. "You know. I told you how the fire upset my stomach, upset the chi—er... Iuniper... Not yet feeling my best..."

Her soft cheeks have just gained in all that pallor of theirs since the fire. Since... "And the monster?" Oh, dear, the blasted monster. I pull my head up closer to hers, my black fur entwining in spots with her lavender. Those cheeks of hers, so thin in color... I wish she'd worry about her own health more... Espa...

"I've been telling you not to come too close, in case it..." Espa. Not happening. We've been over this. She rolls those heavenly irises of hers at me, snorts a bit. "Yes. Whatever." Her head falls soft near my chest. By my heart... heh, she must feel it beating. Isn't that a thought. "And the monster..." She sighs, all flustered.

"I'm worried about you, Espa. Truly. You don't look so hot... a-and I don't mean that as some joke. This time. Really... you're not doing well."

And again she splutters. "Um-Umbre! I told you what happened, it was nothing much! Back with the berries prior, I convinced Vivi let me take Kyo on a stroll. You know how he is when it comes to the baby... he's strangely... I don't know, energized at the thought of new life in my gut. Heh. He's excited when it comes to children... I know he likes Nayomi, too...

"And then the monster plopped in! I told you, it wasn't Tim—no, it wasn't—just because I didn't get a good look of it doesn't automatically make it Tim, Umbre!—it was gloppy and cold and—and awful... Ouhhh..." She shivers when she thinks of it, and then a great wave of guilt attempts to drown me for making her tell me again. I didn't mean to—I just... what if she really isn't doing well and she's keeping it from me again? It doesn't help you to hinder your health for my "happiness;" I'm going to worry, I care about you, Espa.

Marks on her belly wriggle threateningly. They go all slick, shiny, like they're gonna ink off her and cover the rest of her stomach. Consume her. It's funny—I almost want to cry, almost need to, when I look at these scars adorning my darling Espa like phony jewels, ugly fakes. She's not ugly... she's not phony... she's not fake. She _is_ the jewel, my jewel, my Espa...

We know from helpful Jen that burning and all sorts of scraping torture do not remove the spots. I don't... we don't... don't know what does. It's... freaky. Llana can't either, far as we can tell. She's managed all sorts of great thingies, and I'm sure we'd all be toast if not for her, but she's still not perfect. Heck. No one is. Well. Tim sort of is, but he's in his own world, and he's stripping his perfection for the girl, for... for Mina and Burr, for Gaurdio, for us. He's apologized about the ear; the sincerity in that voice of his went deafening.

It's not... not like I have issues with him. Just the illusion of him. The perfection. The killer. Yes, he doesn't like it any longer... finally.

"Umbre? O-Oh... Umbre, dear, please don't cry... when you make that face sometimes you start to cry..."

I blush.

Maybe she reacts too strongly and can't focus long enough on what matters to her—er, that isn't... isn't me... but I'm too loyal, and I can't see much outside of my direct vision. I don't worry about the future, I worry about the moment. And yeah, live in the moment, but try to live in the moment without killing your future self, right? I want you safe, Espa... I'd do anything for you... even if it was horrible...

My gaze slits back for her elongated stomach, those black marks on it... her stomach...

"Espa..? Darling?" She glances back at me. Gently I rest my head over hers, softly kiss her forehead. "Don't forget to eat extra. I know you get embarrassed about it, but everyone knows you're full of that kid. You need stuff for yourself, too. Please. Think about that... I don't want you to get hurt or anything, no, no more boo-boos for my lovely Espa..."

Her face scrunches. "E-E-E-Ehhh..."

"But I suppose that... the more scrapes you get, the more chances I have to kiss the hurt away! Don't I~" Eheh... She looks at me, looks away, blinks furiously, blushes redder than she thinks, splutters, and ultimately plops that slender face of hers in my chest. Even half-blinded by all my midnight fur, those forepaws of hers scrabble and fold protectively up and around her stomach...

I lean in closer, just by her ear. The half-bitten one. I don't care. I don't care. "I love you, darling." I love her... I love her... I love her...

She's silent, then, again. Then, soft breath into my heart, "I love you, dear," pressed up close to my soul.

I blush. Gently stroke her lilac fur.

If only this den was private enough for _only_ us...

 **Me: Yay! I've been excited for that scene TTwTT Lovey-dovey Espa Umbre...**

 **(Yes, you can notice that they aren't continuously freaking out and thinking about their dead friends like Llana. They do mention them, do acknowledge and miss them, but... well, they're not Llana xD Llana's... well...)**

 **And who can forget Timothy!**

 **Tim: ...it's just Tim. It's always just been Tim.**

 **Me: -ignores- He actually doesn't want to kill! Just like... hard to trust of course... I mean... he killed Elijah, Mina, Burr, and Roland and Gaurdio to an extent... not to mention now Elijah's parents too! But Nayomi's okay hmmmmmm ewe**


	10. Scrapes and Bruises

Chapter 10: Scrapes and Bruises

Situational. Relaxation displays itself, safe and sound, perched just in front of me. I wince as I sit but I stay there, stop, breathe. Big, lapping lungfuls that fall and fill, down my lips and into my lungs. Once I've settled about bits of sand and matter and boulder-like bits—all woven into mats via combination of F, Vivi, and myself—Nayomi settles herself upon my lap. She hasn't spoken much, but the water did thread through her matted fur, did open up her bloody body. And Tim is right. Unharmed.

Physically no cuts belittle her sensitive skin. Her eyes are a little dark, but still they hold surprisingly light globes for what she must have been around to see. Although... I suppose I was around at the time of my own parents' untimely demise—my birthparents, not Gerald and Stella. Though I was there in some form when Gerald... as well. I don't think Stella can die. I don't think.

Nayomi's soft and silent. She doesn't make much of a motion when I pull her closer to me: poor stony child. None of this is... at her fault. It's... it's... it's...

I lose focus staring, bewildered, at one of my outstretched hands. Rough green scales sown together in glistening shine. Small. Bent. Bruised and blistered. E-Eehhhh...

Footsteps shuffle over mats and sand. Tossing my head above the child's big ears, head nestled over hers, I catch the pair of pans trotting toward me. Ember's stare suggests chastening; Cheeka's more reflects a disquiet in her mind, a sort of fear. She's... bipolar. There is no shame in one's flaws but her instability worries me... I don't want her hurt, yes? She's.. fragile. Ember does well in his care of the panpour, very gentle; to others this trait is forgone.

Their fingers entwine as they land themselves in front of me. Nayomi flinches. In her tiny child voice, she whispers, "Who are you? Why are your eyes... scary?"

The pansear's dull quartz gaze goes hard underneath the child's scrutinizing. Cheeka clears her delicate chime. "Hello. Um... I'm... I..." Shake of the head. Pale fingers eject from her and to her partner. "That's... Ember. I-I'm Cheeka." She releases a breath.

"Yeah, but... why are your eyes scary? Mommy told me pan eyes are s'posed to match their element... or not... not so bright... nnnnh!"

"Watch it." Ember's expression narrows: he hasn't bothered lifting a lash for me yet. "Everyone's different, and maybe we're a little _more_ different than not, bu that gives you no excuse to go sticking your nose in the 'scariness' of others. Your words are inadequate. 'Pink' works just fine." A hint of tooth flashes in his lip as his grip tightens upon the red-faced panpour beside him. She's begun chewing at her lip, strong pink gaze scrunched: they nigh copy one another.

Nayomi flinches. The shudder runs cleanly from my lap to up and down, across my body. A bit of a touching worry pokes me; I shake my head again.

Until finally Ember rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm not here to school a kid on her prowess. Ugh... Llana. I'm here for you. Again." Snort. One wary glance shies over Cheeka before his eyes bound back over to me again. "I don't mind you. I like you more than the others, surely. Just..."

He eyes the creature sitting on my lap as if it Roland's head.

I gag, try not to think about it... not to think... don't cover your eyes... strong... strong... strong...

"Oh... you make Llana shiver!"

"Yes. Sure. Of course." A pale hand brushes at the flaming whorl over his head, looks back at me. He very cleanly doesn't shift toward Nayomi other than his retort. "Llana, you've seen it, haven't you? No. Oh. What am I saying, of course you have. You're the fucking one who..." A raise with the hand and a pinch to the nose.

Cheeka grunts. "I don't like it. I don't like all this... black matter. It's just sitting here, dirty little minions... I don't like it!" Cough. "No... no." Sigh. Her fingers clutch at her forehead beneath the waves of matted blue hair.

Her companion blinks. He sighs softly, slowly. "I know. It hurts. It's okay... just try not to think much, okay? Try to rest...

And then all sign of his compassion is more or less tossed. "You do realize by now what we're getting ourselves into, wouldn't you? We all know what Tim thought when he saw them. Called them like he was their creator. They're so small—sure, deadly. You think, oh, this is it, small and deadly weapons—no, of course it isn't. People who can craft blizzards with naught but their head don't stop at small things.

"And they have friends. Just like you have friends."

I cough. "I-It seems you've given this some thought since I last heard of your opinion." Idly I wonder if they think much else. Well... no. That's a little wild. Of course there's something else. They can't help it. They've lived deadly childhoods so their minds always go to the danger first. And Cheeka... oh, dear Cheeka... I can't help but feel this knotting guilt in my chest when I look upon her. She of her bright, sizzling quartz eyes; of knotted hair and bruised cheeks; of fear and hate and anger and love and kindness all mottled in her head. I wince.

"Yes, well," Ember murmurs. "There's fates bigger than just yours and Tim's here. There's, say, Vivi. F. Kyo." Cheeka's face flashes with worry and Ember goes on quickly. "I'd say they're like you...

His fingers tuck into the sand before us. Larger pebbles he pulls toward his fingers; wayward sticks crunch beneath fire and psi and power alike. "Power lies on multiple scales, no? There's all sorts of powers filtered into this bit of tug-of-war of ours... there's duds. Zoey. There's those who can at least contain bits of your power... Bay surely. The legends... Quagsire. Mary. Us. You. Tim. That... thing." He doesn't glance at Nayomi but this smacks her in the face.

She's gone silent. Perhaps sleeping. Poor tot... her mother seemed so... her father...

Don't think of it... d-don't think of it... But it's so hard not to. It's like their voices scream at me, yell, and I let them toss their rotting words at me. I take and hold and cry about these losses like bits of holes each time: I can't protect, can't protect, protect, protect... no... failure... so much failure... so much... awful... horrible... and I just hear them. Loops and loops of voices... snatching and hatching lines crawling amongst one another, ensnaring me in their own little web. Only the web is deep. Only there is not halt to it. None that I can see.

The last I'd seen... Zoey was mad at Tim... I think mad... she ran after him fast... I was tired... but she kept running... and Tim let her come after him... And they just kept going... and I couldn't catch up...

only it's more than that. It's everything. And it's all meddled together and it's hard to breathe, hard to see much of anything.

It's Vivi and it's Kyo; it's Cheeka and Ember; it's Jen; it's Bay... it's Elijah. There's so much... it's so dark...

so dark...

Whence I manage that glimpse back toward reality, Ember's fingers have built a whole nexus, a maze of pathways in the sand. They each scuff along one another without the understanding in personal space. Knotted, mottled. A great, confusing mess. A hodgepodge without even the denotation holding it together. His orbs resemble embers burning just at the brink of collapse; his fingers have halted about the broken bits of twig and leaf he must've pushed into a pile.

Nayomi's snowy white hands, hardly a plum in his grip, search about the array. He leaves her. She crawls off me and into the sand; her carefully-combed and deftly-dried fur now filled with grit. Oh, it was waiting to happen...

Softly Ember's kindling eyes search over me, watch upon me. They're tender for once, tepid but not smoldering, a burning warmth that comforts in coating me. "It's a shame that balance is so... tipsy. That the weights of entities and souls cannot uphold each other enough, only to chafe and belittle... and build up only to fall down. Of course, this is balanced by the togetherness that is found... but it's hard to stay one big happy whole as you fall, fall deeper into this mess called life.

"Really. We enjoy you. All of you. I know I'm serious and more a hindrance to drags like Zoey. But we know too much... we're weights of power and we attract weaklings who think they can measure like us... and it's no use. All of these lives... all of this weight... it's only meant to collapse in the end."

Quietly, shaking that tender little head of his, he whispers, "There is beauty in such a thing," and then he rests back upon the mat. Cheeka, already weak and small herself, curls beside him, stays there as one of his warm and gentle hands curls back about her. And they stay together like that. All a web of their own. Matching. Strong with their feeling and their connection... it's rather... sweet. Sweet harmony...

Nayomi twitches, pulls a finger out of the sand and into her ear.

"What are you... e-eh! Nayomi!"

"Can't you hear it?" she squeaks, "can't you hear it?"

Hear what? Hear what... oh...

I fall back unto my own mat. The little squealing thing goes destroying through Ember's tiny masterpiece, each grain and each bit of care erased again into the earth. We're the only ones to see it and hold it in our eyes, our minds, and our hearts. It's strange. All of it is, really.

The night is just as consuming as any day is here. Blotting black currents of sky, nothing bright, just splotches of gloom. And it's everywhere. Touch that cannot touch but fills one's unending sight with darkness. Like... like Tim? I suppose, in a way. Perhaps like me, too, then, in its blinding twin of light. Yes; yes; that could be me. And upon such a spectrum everyone falls in between somewhere. Greater mass than my own troubles... than that dance with death Tim and I enact.

Ember's thoughts puzzle me. While I lay there, I wonder: Nayomi for sure prowls by my feet. It's dark out now. Cool, greasy night has fallen about us. I wonder, and I worry, about some of the others... where they are, if they feel safe... Unease prickles over my skin. Zoey should... should be fine. I sigh. Oh, I just think and think and nigh break my head open in fear. Ember said it was more than them, too. It was... a little of everything, a lot of more. Is it any more concealing than this black—than the oncoming light?

And where is Quagsire, anyways? Where does his own piece fall?

Beggars are funny or guilty or coal. Hearts of coal, burnt as fuel, sensation—here it lacks.  
Zoey acts as one but hidden inside she feels another... and she's not coal, she's not coal...

What awaits out there in the musty dark? What sorts of things would go bump in the night if I ran from these finely-combed mats, if I ran and ran until I ran out of breath but kept running because I didn't need it. What will I lose; what don't I actually need? Furiously I stare scars into the hands I can't see in front of me, at the small bruises and splinters that amount to nothing in comparison to the scars that Nayomi's parents now... e-e-e-ehhh...

It's a lot of stress to push oneself into, isn't it? Consideration of others at such a level. Such a height. My fault... my fault... Nayomi's fluffy body settles itself beside me but I'm not thinking of her... It's not you... it's me... me... me...

Soft, padded feet make their way by my head. It's not Nayomi—she's curled up by me somewhere. Her sandy fur... I can feel it pressed against some scaly part of me. Not quite focusing enough to tell which. Perhaps my tail; yes, I would think so. The granular bits shift beneath me, some of them from the emolga's fur and others via my own play with the dirt. I can't quite rest. And of course there's the question. Is it Zoey? "Who is it?"

"Oh, like, hey." No. No no no. Not Zoey. F. Yes. That's F. Sassy, rambunctious, even sleazy at points. That's F. She resembles Mina, now that I think of it... Mina was... before she... she was a mienfoo, pastel colored, flowery, gentle-looking. Not gentle. No. She's slapped Burr numerous times. She loved Burr. He loved Mina. Mina was glitzy, without a shy bone in her body, ready to take what was hers but otherwise she could calm herself, calm Burr in the process, preferably with punching. Even so she had to be slow, had to be careful—she had a great scar along her spine. Burr used her slowness as a reason to constantly peck at her cheek with kisses, sing while they walk because she takes long enough for a verse. They were sweet... They... they were...

Llana... compose yourself... come on...

"Eh—F? Yes? Hello. Um... what are you doing, walking about here?"

Just enough flaming strands illuminate her outline to catch glimpses of her fur, of her big glassy blue eyes. Like skies trapped in her soul. A bit of flame like spit dribbles from one opened lip; F's flame-colored paw scrabbles over her cheek near it, wipes it back. "Hrr? Like, hi, Llana. Gawsh, why are you up so late? Zoey warned me, but like... gawwshhhhhhh, whyyyyyyyyyyy..?" A wide-lipped yawn of hers accentuates the point, makes her words slur over one another.

I blink. "Ah—Zoey is with you?"

"Mmhrrmmm! Don't worry, li'l Llana, like, Zoey's alrighty. She jus' wanted t'make sure I told'chu that m'self. Hr," she goes, and in the same breath turns her head aside and spits a bit of flaming snot in the sand.

I stare at the glowing dirt for a while.

F, growing bored of me, plops herself in front of my pointed nose. Her hot breath plows through my face. It's clean, even, like a fist; I never knew F contained such power. Not in her little body, but... "Hrhhh! Gawsh, Llana, your attention's, like, everywhere but on me! Hmmf! I ain't done with my story yet!

She gives me some moments to settle. Nayomi, by one of my folded hands, has yet to waken. I'd appreciate the victini not to change that: though, she is F, so I shan't hold out much hope. "And then, cuz she wanted me to check on you, Vivi showed up and was like, 'yeah, you should go like check on everyone', so anyways there goes the rest of my, like, life. And so there's you... And o'er there, like, that's Embie and Cheekie, right?"

"U-U-Um. Yes."

"And there's baby Nayo-Nayo. Mhm. Cute, cute. Gawsh, she's cute. Well, that's everyone, sort of! I'd love to like take your bed, Llana, but Zoey would kill me if I slept with you. She'd kill someone who looked at you, like, honestly. Like, Llana is strictly, like, _Zoey's_. All that. Heh. She's funny."

When I don't respond, she goes on. "If you guys're the last ones... then I wonder where the others went... hmmnng..."

And quickly I snap to my feet, shaky and weak body and all. "Wh-Wh-Wh—WHAT do you mean by tha-that?" Again it all snaps into place; there I am, standing, shivering, cold, suddenly very, very cold. The backwash of day so cleanly called night; it shivers and tumbles about me, until I feel scared, and I feel sick. Very, very cold... indeed. Who is it now? Who is it now?

Not Vivi. Not Zoey. Not Ember or Cheeka or little Nayomi. Certainly not F... not—not me.

Oh, it's too little! It's too little! Who is it! Who is—

Small, sad grin. "Eh, um, like... Jen disappeared." Small, sad shrug. "I didn't see her, at least. Gawsh..." Small, sad tug at my hands, she pulling herself up beside me. Another tug, and she sends us both going back her way.

"But I think it's okay. Like... Bay went after her. So..."

F's hands hold over mine; nothing else connects me to this orbiting world.

"Eh... eh! Llana! Didja hear me? Hrrrrh! Like, listen! Gawwwshh! LLANA, LISTEN TO ME!"

I didn't see where my hands went or her hands followed, I just felt and feared and, in one big fall: hated.

Deep breaths... big breaths... I don't need air to live... and my hands around my neck means nothing without Tim's pearly claws to snip it... It wouldn't hurt, couldn't hurt me, but still the rush of adrenaline escapes through me, still I can't explain, can't contain myself. My eyes are everywhere; such are the thoughts bouncing through my head. "I'm"—I splutter, really, truly—"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I just... re-reacted. I just reacted. I'm sorry!" More breaths, more sagging against myself, near falling into the tumultuous sand below. A child lies there.

F's feet and her skilled, controlled hands guide me. Slow, slow circles, paces provided.

"I told you. Bay's with her. I saw him. He said he saw her, said he, like, saw the whole thing, saw her freakin' out or something, was gonna, like, go after it. C'mon, trust the guy. He's the best friend of the guy you liked before he died or whatever. Gawsh.

Her uplifting smile drags. "You don't, like, have to do everything. You'll die before that happens. Llana—gawsh, we don't wanna see you all, like, tired and stuff. There's so much of us. We're all friends. Like... chill. Try to. I know Zoey's been tellin ya," and as she sighs, I finally catch the hints of light, like a texture, glinting within her. Worry. F. Worried. F. When has she ever been worried prior to now? When has she ever... ever... stopped herself, looked... and seen more than what she thinks we should see? When... when...

I manage to pull my eyes back toward her. We've stopped. Her lips turn, bits of tooth show, and a piece of a beam, just a piece, manages a spot of a show. "Go on. Rest. What happens will happen, we'll know in the morning. You can't do everything. Heh. Gawsh, don't take, like, _all_ the spotlight..."

With a smile, she releases her grip and leaves me in the darkness. Her flames and her glowy snot and her sass: she leaves in the darkness, leaves me with the sleeping pans and the child.

She's kind... offering... soft... sweet... strangely. But it's a nice strange. A warm strange. I always... liked F. And I'm sorry, F, but I doubt my ability to rest tonight. I doubt I can close my eyes and see whatever dreams await me, I doubt I can look them in the face and conjure meaning like snaps and sparkles. I doubt... I doubt... I can hold my head up much longer...

So I fall upon the mat I was given and I stay. And I think about Ember's words, because I doubt I could trust my own.

Beneath his serious armor he holds some form of a warmth... it would be nice, one day, to talk with him again like so...

 _Bay_

"Ehh! Jen! Oh, there you are! Why are... oh my gosh..! Why are you so fast! Heh... so fast... ahh..." When I pause and catch my breath, she almost—almost—stops for me, but then she just turns her head and goes on. "Jennnn! Wait for me, pleeeaaaaaase! Why are you so faaaaasst!" And then I have to scuttle after her. My wings fluff, fluff, making me wonder if I'd do better flying instead of this weird slither-hop, but I don't think so. They're small wings. I got nothing on any sort of majestic staraptor. It'd be literally that easy to blow me away.

And I don't mind. It's just... Jen is so fast... and we're going up in this weird cliff area... since when were cliffs in a desert? Well, I suppose it's not that weird. But it still is kind of weird. So much wind—it's chilly! Do I smell rain, of all things, in the wind? Or is it snow..? Man, when did climate give up on us? It's funny, when you think about it. But not funny in the middle of a blizzard. Oh no. No. It's funny after the blizzard. After everyone lives and they look back on it.

"Jen!"

I go racing up after my speedy friend. All I can catch of her's those pumping, blue legs, pebbles that scatter with her steps, and her braids, wildly flying about her head somewhere above. I'm... not that tall. And this thing has yet to stop sloping uphill. Well. I guess there are mountains in the desert, so I can't reason with that. Still. It's just... it feels random, right? It all feels a little loopy. Heh, or maybe I'm just losing it a little.

Is this my fault? I don't know. We had to tell the poor girl at some point. She was getting anxious, nervous. Roland disappeared right under her nose and never resurfaced... Llana said we should tell her, and I agree. It's wrong to keep it away from her, maybe just make it worse. But, oh my gosh, that bagon can run.

Oh, what's that ahead? Up past bits of trail and gently-trodden cliff, I think, just up a little more—thank goodness. The top of this mountainous, sandy terrain finally levels off. Sure, at a point, with a bit of overhang beneath where Jen is heading. Still. Almost over. I'll have her more or less cornered and we can try to talk about everything. It'll be... it'll be safe. She'll stay. I don't think she'll be able to go around me again.

Finally, huffng and puffing, my golden scales all pockmarked with grit, I turn myself up toward the sky blue dragonet and call, pleased with myself, "Hooray!" I smile, murmuring, "Jen, you can stop running now, okay? We're friends, so don't worry too much about it. I understand that the news was a shock, but..."

She's not responding. Wait. I look back up at her, in those amber orbs pointed just above that hand-like mark on her cheek. They're muddled. Murky. Like autumn in a bad rainstorm. She's breathing irregularly, _huh-haaaah huh-haaaa-haa-haahh huh-huh-huhhhhhh-haaaaaaaaahhh-ah-ahhh_. Nnn—don't die, Jen! Wait. Oh. Her toes are hooked around the edge of that cliff... she's teetering right... right there... that... that's a long drop. That's a long drop dow—

Oh.

No... no... Jen, don't do this to yourself... I know you've lost some of your really dear friends a-and all but... no no... Jen, don't do this... it's so wrong.. it's awful...

I have to do something! "Jen!" My cry catches her gaze, catches her skewered into my sight for a perfect, crystalline moment in time. "Jen! Hi! It's me! It's Bay!"

The wind is howling in my ears, must be shredding into hers over at the edge. To my horror, of course it's blowing the way she's gonna fall if she's not careful. Her knotted, silvery braids—half-folded, once so fed with care—billow in front of her snout, out toward the pit. Hn. Well. I guess I'll just have to be louder than the wind. She's listening to all the wrong words, all the wrong entities. Exactly the ones not on her side... oh, Jen, you poor thing... stop listening.

"Jen! It's dangerous by the edge of the cliff, you know! It would be horrible if you—"

"no it wouldn't." She speaks slowly, speaks calmly. I can hear every last syllable with a strange, ringing clarity. Oh, curse those fates playing against me; I'm not letting my friend... my friend... ehhh!

Small breaths. I try to rest myself, try to sound just as calm and controlled as her. Those snippets of gaiety, the ones I can't rid myself of, they stay, but that's fine. That's me. "I'd really miss you if you were gone! I wouldn't like it if you... no. It'd be bad. Llana might just explode. You _know_ how sad it would make Zoey, too..." Aannnd still she inches closer. Okay, no, don't trust her words. It's like she speaks calm and slow, but it's not her controlling but her being controlled.

The mark on her cheek bulges with the gritting of her teeth. It's freaky, big, distorted and wiggling... it's almost mesmerizing in this sickening sort of way. Those eyes of hers aren't seeing, and those ears of hers aren't truly hearing...

Hnn... "Jen. Please. We care about you."

"no you don't."

"Je-Jen..." No, no. Jen. No. Stop that... The bagon won't look at me, only at her very-quickly-approaching demise, and here I am. Right here. I can do something... maybe I can't grab her—no, no. But... Jen! Okay then! "I've lost my best friend, you know. I've known him for the longest time. It was like we were family. Maybe I don't show it like Llana, but I miss him. There's not a day where I don't see something that makes me think of him."

The monster on her cheek pulsates. Black, pus-like goo shreds from its spot, begins slinking down her hard dragon skin—and making its way, slowly but surely, for me.

Oh, dear oh dear... ah... My gaze shoots for the sky. "Jen, this isn't you." It really, really isn't. "You should cherish the memories, not... destroy them with you. But this isn't about me and what I think, is it?" No. No it's not. It's about the mark on her cheek. The one that's trying to consume her...

"oh?" Those amber orbs flash and crease chills down my spine. "no, but now I want to hear. you should tell me anyways."

Let the creature toy with me and tell her... it... all the feelings in my heart or risk Jen... well. I guess Jen's in a bad position either way. If only I knew how to drag her away from that cliff... I suppose I'll have to bring out the monster. A little of it started oozing... if I just... slither back from that chunk, don't let it touch me and mess with me, too, then...

So I start. No better place than the beginning, right? "I'm not sure how old I was at the time. I might've just hatched, may have made it to toddler age. All I know is that my parents left me and I have yet to see them since. But I'm okay, they left, so... eh! Elijah's dad found me. He's really skilled when it comes to foraging, and he happened upon a little dunsparce! He's a nice guy at heart, so he brought me back to the family. Of course, his mother was questioning it, but she was fine in the end... and Elijah and I grew up together, right? Nayomi, too, when she came along." Hesitant look back—that face! It's almost transfixed in my words. What's it looking for?

A little worried, I go on. She hasn't moved, at least. Doing something right. "When we got older, we started heading out of the house. Heh. Nayomi was sad when she left... and then I got lost a lot. I was so excited to see everything I forgot to look out! But Elijah always found me; and then when he couldn't, we met Llana, and she did. I remember... heheh..." My head bows. I can't help it... "I had a really bad, really dinky old crush on Vivi... I don't remember why. She's nice, sure... but she wasn't doing so hot because of you-know-who, and somehow Llana managed to help her, too, and then we were all okay!" Yay!

"Elijah died... Oh. That was... that was... I could hardly believe it. But by then, it was obvious that we were in dangerous territory... the world, evidently, is in dangerous territory. Our whole world. Everything we knew... right? Now Nayomi's having dreams on par to Llana's and the rest of my family... they're dead." I sigh. Big breath. "They were just killed... like pawns in this huge game... like pawns... like nothings...

"It's awful. Really. It is. I understand that. But I can't help but be thankful, because... if one morning I woke up, and Elijah and everyone was still alive, and we never left home the way and time we left... if Zoey, F, Vivi... Umbre... Roland! If they were all just a dream... I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

"At least... that's what I think." Suddenly shy, I look at the ground. That might be bad. What if I look up and Jen's—

"A-A-Aa-Aaahhhhhhhhhhh..."

Crying?

Jen?

A blush springs across my face. I get all hot and uncomfortable. Why's she crying? What made her cry? Does... does the monster hurt? Awkwardly I glance back up at her, at those gleaming amber eyes and the pain flashing clean through them. At her sobs as the acid-like scoopy junk on her face burns off. One hand rubs at it like an afterthought, the other frantically wiping at her tears.

The wind screams. "AAAH! BAY!" she cries, and then I jump without thinking. My body manages to nab at hers—one wing or another cradles her face—and, oh thank goodness, we land in a sobbing heap farther away from the edge than we'll ever get. Entire steps away. I can hardly believe it. I'm so happy. I'm so proud. Entire steps away from that dance with death... entire steps away... she made it... oh...

She tells me she's sorry, she's really sorry, again and again, her fingers threading over and untangling those braids of hers. First they're a heavenly sheet of cloud-gray hair, slowly and gently, methodically working back into the lovely braids I've known her for. One on each shoulder, one draping down her back. Just as Jen as she should be.

"I'm sad, Bay."

"Hmm?"

"But I think we're all a little sad... so if we let that get the better of us, that's, bad, Bay.

"And I don't want you to be a dream either, Bay. None of you."

"Yes, Jen."

And I smile.

Because I'm happy. I'm happy none of this is a dream, despite all the pain and the glory.

 **Yay sad happy stuff Jen doesn't die! But she miiight ewe**

 **Llana's saved tons of lives in pmd2, even if she didn't save everyone in the end. Perfection is illusion~**

 **But hey. Bay managed to save Jen... ;w; She's okay...**

 **but those marks are obviously bad, obviously influencing bad things..**

 **at least no one else has them, right?**


	11. Stranger Encounter

Chapter 11: Stranger Encounter

My fingers clasp tightly round Zoey's. We're traveling again. I'm... I'm relived that even so with the expense of whom we have lost, Jen is still... and Bay is still... e-ehhh... truly, I'm relieved. And either way the last time I tried to save a life by the time I arrived they were already g-gone. And Kyo... Kyo is... well. Better. I suppose better. The cold, rocky ground becomes a comfort for my eyes.

"Hmm..." Vivi trots just by us, flanked by the eeveeloution duo. "I do wonder why our terrain only seems to come gloomier and gloomier the further we travel. Yes, supposedly a bright amber desert was cheerful enough—but with all of the dust, most exceptionally in the sky... and now look at these rock-like caverns..." A small moue forms upon her cream lips. "How uncomfortable is this predicament, yes?" Shake of the head, elegant horns streaming.

Softly, Espa contributes. Her voice is backed up in additional thoughts although overall the tune is quiet and flowing. "It is more than a little odd. Open space is confining us... ulgh. Nor am I claustrophobic, but it's still eerie. Can't help but dislike the slow fade of our comfort we call space."

"Heh. Makes me feel like we'll be ambushed at any time! Oh, what a party that would be!"

Espa hisses, "Umbre!" She squeaks. "That's not a good thing!"

"Oh, sorry, darling, I know. Just thinking aloud." A smug grin infiltrates the umbreon's glittering expression. Zoey beside me smirks: it's a lax look back at the lax one himself. Oh this laxity in the area... I bite at my lip.

They're all so precious to me... why can I not wrap them all tightly together and keep it with a bow, keep them from ever escaping into the dark of night again? If I never have to wash the blood from unopened wounds to begin with, my world would be a safer place. For them, surely. But to leave them behind...

Cracked onyx orbs pierce me from wherever that forsaken timburr lies. Oh I swear he never leaves... following me like a lost child, abandoned orphan—shadow from the nadir of the other side... ghh... Scary. I'm sorry. Scary.

"It would be a little fun to get ambushed, wouldn't you say?" murmurs Umbre from further along the cavern. "Then at least we'd have some... er... more company." We... used to be more numerous... didn't we...

Zoey's voice drowns out whatever comes next. Her squishy feet land with a plop from one side and her head turns around and she cries: "You guyyyyyyys! You don't have to talk about all the freakin' sad stuff, do you? I-I mean yeah, there's not that much _good_ stuff to talk about either... but... but still! Hmph!"

Umbre chuckles softly, affectionately. "Zoey, it's not you we're upsetting, is it? Not that... not that I mean to. Sorry about that." The laughter in his face brushes back with his sigh.

Her fingers squeeze tightly with my hand. "I know! Let's sing to make everyone happy!"

"Zoey!" Vivi's amethyst orbs twinkle. The fur along her spine does rustle a bit, like that of a bush's, suggesting she's not quite sure about this. "As delightful as that might be... er... What if the singing was only further disturbing? You know?" She's joking it off. Silly...

"Hmmm... then maybe Llana should sing! She has a pretty voice and I'm _sure_ she would be, like, the best singer ever! Almost!" She stiffens as the thought of a late friend summons. "Er, no! _Best_ singer. And I _mean_ it." Which causes the flow to ebb but still the bright brown fur and the smile remains.

The espeon's gem shimmers a bit. "But if dear Llana's a little shy, then you shouldn't force her to sing. I at least haven't heard her sing prior..." Luminous orbs widen. "Unless she has? Of course, I'm sure it would sound lovely, but... eh. Don't force her, dear." Those lilac orbs shift toward me, twinkling kindly.

Zoey's eyes fall back on me too. "Hnnn.."

Blush explodes across my cheeks. "E-E-Ehh..." Oh dear, now I'm put on the spot... d-d-do I have to? I don't... d-don't know if I'd feel comfortable about this... A-And would Ember and Cheeka really want to hear me sing? They're up just ahead with Quagsire and have been silent as far a I know throughout this trip: would they so wish to hear my wretched voice crack their glassy world? Not to mention Bay and F and Jen from behind... Now I'm embarrassed...

"Oop. Well, that was a total flop. Waah, I'm sorry, Llana! Pleaaaaase forgiiive meeeeeeeee!"

Her soft, white-furred face presses against my scaly cheek; I splutter—I splutter—I try not to whine. "I-I-It's fii-iine... Z-Zoey." Now the blushing just won't go away... with the e-embarrassment and now... e-ehhh... I raise one hand and cover my eyes with the forearm. Zoey's own furry, gentle fingers cup mine.

"Eheh. Sorry, Llana. You're just so cuuute~!"

"Hmmm! You funny little ones." Quagsire's sudden burst surprises me enough to cause my body to stumble forward and lose Zoey's grip for a good few seconds: her bright white fingers, so light in the pitch of the cavern, cup and shadow over me, pulling me back to my feet. "While we're walking, I'd like to ask: would a story improve the mmmmmood?" Soft Quagsire chortle; he must hear the cogs churning in our heads.

What story will it be this time..?

Without digression, our floppy blue leader continues. "This is a story about all the romance we so love, and fate, a long, long time ago..."

"Eh? Does this mean the story's actually real? It's happened?" Umbre sniffs.

Quagsire halts. The pans by his side stiffen. "Yes. Yes it does." Then he goes on without haste. "It... mmm, it takes place in our world. Our part of the world. Not here, but... hmm, you get it, mmhm. There was a boy, a great adventurer of all timmmmme! Hwah! Huzzah! Striking sounds! He learned a great mmmany things in his life, hmmm? Because his journey mmmmade him wise, patient... fun things you kids don't understand."

Umbre's ears flatten against his head. Zoey's follow suit.

Vivi giggles, just so softly.

"And he thought in turn these skills would... immmmpress people. Right? Why wouldn't they? Hmmmm, isn't he coool? Well no. He wasn't as cool as he thought, because there was a girl he so liked—yes, whistle and mmmmeowthcall here—and she didn't think so. Mmmmh! It brought him chaos in his heart! This girl, she was elegant and classy and knew her way around just anything! She _danced_ around her enemies and showed them up, hmm-hmm!" Sharp nod. Sharp nod...

Deep intake. "Even when she turned around, stopped, and saw him, it was a bit... too late." Exhale. "He had mmmmoved on. He wasn't... doing the best by then. He learned this as he did with mmmmany things on his journeys. Take it with a grain of salt: mmmove on. He'd left, to put it plainly; and he wasn't commming back again."

Espa winces, stumbles. When I glance back it's like her eyes have iced over in fear.

Zoey whispers, "Was he dead?"

"No, he wasn't dead! Mmmmh, Zoey, you're mmmissing the point." And thus he moves on. "He was too shy, heck, _stupid_ , and gave in too easily. He thought he understood when life closed off an exit. He thought he could take what life told himmmm and commmmprehend that he shouldn't be there. But things change, and he did not understand _that_. Oof. No. I pity him even today. He was a nice bloke. Shame he fell so low.

Then it's my turn to sigh after him.

Ye-Yes... Tim does come to mind...

"Turns out his head was emptier than he thought, and that just really mmmessed himmmm up. He did a lot of bad things, then. Their one mmmmeeting was split right down the mmmiddle: you'd think, even if she found himmm again, she'd be disgusted. She'd turn her back. Leave.

"Curse the fates as I don't know how she did it. Stopped himmmmm frommm a stupid thing, the stupid thing that would've been his last act alive, surely. But she did it. How did she find him? Hmm. She was a smart girl. And she forgave himmmm before he realized he had sommme forgiving to do." Soft, airy sigh. "One might almost call her perfect... saving a life when it should have cut close...

He clears his throat. "There was someone special—not she or he—very special—out there who thought these acts mmmad, insane, and deep down ammmmazing. So who knows where they are now... but the fire of life in their hearts—just none of it could be extinguished." And another sigh. "Mmmm... nice people indeed." He doesn't stop, but his voice cuts and ends there.

"What was his name?" Vivi's breath is but air just brushed over with song.

"Sir Ton. Hmm. I do believe there's a pun in there sommmmewhere. Delightful, eh?"

She giggles. Umbre snorts. Espa's gaze goes into her head somewhere foreign.

I don't quite know what to say at first: the words all jumble up in me... it was... a nice story, of course. They... they all were nice stories, though, so that is not much of a difference. It was a beauty, some sort of spectacle... and the story was real? I wonder then if he ever met one of them, S-Sir Ton, and that is what keeps their word afire. Still... it was a sweet tale; I quite enjoyed listening to it. Yes... yes indeed... indubitably...

"Llana?"

"Y-Yes?" What is it, Zoey?

"Can you sing now?"

"E-Eh!" I-I... but..!

Chattering raises like clouds or pillars betwixt the quagsire and the psychics.

Cheeka first. "She can sing if she wants to!"

"What if I'd rather the silence..."

"That's... that's not nice!"

"Eh!—Sorry, Cheeka. I mean that in the nicest way possible..."

She comes off shy of anger. "Ember..."

Well that settles it I'm not talking again. "You big meanies! You're making Llana self-conscious! Ember, go die or something! Emmbeeerrrrrrrrr!" Zoey's face blushes thickly and brightly like a tropically-found flower; her ears stand on end, eyes rigid. A center of the hottest of reds cloaks her face. "J-Just shut up and stop that!" Her fingers tighten around me.

"Mph. Llana." The pansear grants me one single moment of salvation. "I didn't mean it like _that_ , Llana. Apologies." A tooth splits through his lip. "I just would rather more silence than much else. If that... ulg, sorry." Redder in the face than his accuser, he slowly turns back around and folds his arms in front of him. That tail of his with the red tuft of fur goes swinging and swinging with the indefinite strife of a pendulum.

Quagsire, then, joins in on the pounding. "Ember, does this mmmmmean you didn't like mmmmy story? Hmmmmmmm?"

His hands claw for his ears. "GAAAHHH! WHAT THE FUCK IS IT WITH YOU GUYS!"

Cheeka giggles softly, cheeks pink.

"Well I have to say I rather did enjoy it."

The moment such an icy tendril of tone creeps down our spines—we halt. The breath on my lips is not mine anymore, not even ours. We don't recognize it—no, not at all. Umbre, chortling a little hoarsely, wonders, "Hello? May I ask who we have the... um"—he gulps—"honor to speak with?"

"I suppose so. Your story was so lovely, it would be cruel of me not to, eh?" Zoey and I share a glance, then seek out the stark face of our virizion friend. If anyone, the floppy leader in front of us appears calmest; although that's no surprise. The only time I ever saw him knocked out of his demeanor was when Roland...

Zoey's fingers shift about me, more a hug than just along my hands. We wait slowly as the air chills about us, my skin itself icing over like the boulders with.. with... I shiver. Zoey tries her best—her body far warmer than mine—until we've tangled into a knot on the ground. Her tail casually flops over my head and I slump into the rapidly-chilling soil. My eyes just grow wider, wider, wider than icicles and snowballs and snowmon made by cute little children... who only wish to share a bit of joy in this world...

Her cloudy blue eyes are lined in purple. I at least think it's a _her_ not a _he_. Per-Perhaps. She's donned a snowy garment not unlike a flowing bit of fabric... like a... dress, was it? Yes? Like the little things on kirlias and others of their ilk. But this one is not... not a kirlia. N-No. Not a kirlia. Long, wispy arms, hair-like falls of ice upon her cheeks and forehead—not unlike Zoey. No form of oshawott, either.

There is a fabric wrapped into a rather large bow across her body: it's a drab, depressing and dark blue, not unlike timeless ice spun together in sin. Of... some form. I don't know. It makes me nervous. Then again everything makes me n-nervous.

Our halt allows F and the others to catch stride. Her fire-red hands have Nayomi in grip, the little thing in question curled against her in sleep. F doesn't look so happy about it; whence she spots me beneath Zoey, she forces the both of us up and plops the thing in my hands. "Gawsh. Don't make me, like, watch her again," she mumbles; then, "Holy—gaawssshh, it's strangely lukewarm!"

Our gazes scrape against her. Slowly the victini turns and spies the froslass among us. "Oh Hey. Well, gawsh, that'd explain it." Cheeka giggles, abruptly stuffs a hand in her mouth. Her blue-tinged face gives more sorrow to her looks...

"Huh? Why do you all look at me with such surprise upon your faces?" She speaks in a voice not unlike my own, although its chillier demeanor and strange hint of... some very, very northern accent deters it. "Is it so unusual to see a fellow rogue in Truught? Geez, where are you from? Oh let me guess." Snide grin. "What was that town called again... you know, the one filled with soft-bellied ditzes..." Ah.

Bay, trotting from behind, brightens a bit. "Oh, you mean Post Town!"

"No," she counters, "I mean Ditzville." Blink. "No. Yes. Post Town. Whatever. Same thing. Let me guess, how many of you have died by now?"

I lose my footing.

The world goes off in alarms: black, white, red, red, throbbing heartbeats of red. My lungs have lost their senses, my knees bite into dirt, Nayomi's little head nigh bumps into a stone. I try to focus. I can't focus. _H_ ow m _an_ y _? How_ w _ww_ maaa _aaaan_ nn _nyyy_ yyy _yyyyyyyy?_ Aaaaaaaah! I can't think! I want to scream, scream, scream, scream _scream!_ _SCREAM!_ My fingers not upon Nayomi retreat for my face one at a time, I'm sobbing into my hands.

Gaurdio, Burr, Elijah, Roland, Mina... and who is next? Oh, I want to vomit. The thought is so slimy, so putrid, so awful... why can't we just... we just... e-ehhhhh... I'm freely sobbing and Nayomi is freely falling from my attempt at holding her.

A growl goes off like a siren by my ear. Zoey's fingers dig into me, shake me into reality, but it's not her that my eyes focus on but the onyx gaze behind that. Oh. He-Hello, Tim. I hug Nayomi toward me, deep breaths, try to recover. Everything won't stop spinning. Is it me or is the world ending? I don't know. They keep dying. Who's next? My gaze spins and spins like a top across them all. Who's next?

F and Ember and the intruder, Je—which splits back into that frigid, frigid creature. Espa—her belly—Everything. Hot and cold in one bleary mess... ulhhh... Zoey. Oh, Zoey, my eyes go hot through her. Zoey, Zoey... Where did tears come from? E-Ehhhh...

I don't want to know who's next...

I don't want there to even _be_ a next... n-no... no, no, no...

Finally a hoof trots and plants itself in the soil. A slow, low growl emanates. There are dark eyes, but they aren't dark with what I so wiped from him—dark with anger.

"Stop being scary." And then he is quiet; the words echo in my head.

My gaze pilfers betwixt the two; frantic keldeo and that... that froslass. A little grin knits itself over her lips: she giggles and giggles and giggles... "Scary? Well, dear me, do I apologize!" Her sky-blue gaze trains itself on me, and again she giggles. "Apologies, apologies. I'm only another rogue out here in Death Central. Heh. Just another... I don't mean to scare you soft-bellied ditzes, now." Giggles just write across her. I'm uncomfortable... I hide beside Zoey, clasp Nayomi in my arms... she stirs a bit but otherwise stays silent.

And of course Quagsire turns. "Hmmm! Would this make you a native? Wow! Mmmmh, that seemmmms pretty cool, mmmh? What's your name?"

"Ahh, flattery. I pluck it like apples from your useless tree." Snort. "Name? Oh, right. My name is Frigid Outspring, and it's nice to meet you... I guess. Psh, I wonder how many of you will still be _alive_ if we ever cross paths again. That would be quite the surprise." Another laugh. She just... f-finds us hilarious, doesn't she? Hysterical? Impossible? N-Nnng...

Casually Tim takes a step toward of. Oh dear, of course he does. Ember and Cheeka by the side of our floppy leader have gone just as still and silent as me. They don't dare a move. Their wide, psychic eyes take in the encounter of this new being. Ember's face narrows. I can only imagine the silent growl locked in his throat.

She smirks as the black-furred biped steps toward her again. She waits and watches, cloudy gaze thick with curiosity, as he clears his deep throat. "You don't know who we are, then, do you? Although I wouldn't expect a commoner like so to recognize us. Not even our fellow Quagsire? Not even"—his eyes shine feverishly—"not me, either?" He looks about ready to start... laughing. Freakishly laughing.

"No. No I don't. Why?" Her lips upturn.

"Because I've killed your entire family, as well as your childhood friends... including..." Tim's eyes snap shut, claws coming out in counting. "Your cousins. Your—oh yes—you remember your first lover who must have strangely disappeared one night? Yes. I killed her, too."

She hardly reacts. Or at least won't show up. Slowly licks her lips. "Nice to meetcha, Killer."

"Tim." His expression darkens, eyes opening. I doubt he likes her. I doubt... much of us like her. Quagsire is curious, in the least. Bay's no good at disliking anyone. Zoey must digress, since I-I do.

"So you're the one who's been leaving all the corpses? Turning the world to good ol' crap? That's all you? Mmh. You have my pride."

"Hm. I thought I'd like you more if I showed you some shame, but I suppose I was wrong."

"Eh. Oh well. Shall I be on my way, then?"

"E-Ehhhhhhh!" A cry from behind tugs us each aside. Vivi shuffles to her right, Umbre following a little hastily, as a blue dragonet goes tumbling to the froslass. Her fingers tightly entwine with the beast's torso, tugging at her floating form, tugging, tugging. "Please! Pleaaaaaase don't go!"

A bit of a hysterical grin accompanies Frigid Outspring's face. "What the hell are you and what do you want from me?"

Jen's amber gaze only tightens as she hugs that—that thing. "I-I want you to stay! I-I-I-I really really like you! And I... I feel bad about what happened to you! You should... y-you should stay with us! We-We'll be your friends! You won't ever have to be loneeellyyyyyyy!" She's so... I so... e-ehhh...

"Jen. Dear. Don't..." Vivi takes a step toward our friend, only the bagon shuffles away. She can't leave the side of the froslass, amber eyes thick and glassy. "Ouuhf..." We all know why she can't let go of... I mean... It's o-obvious. But I can't... I can't think about it right now. Zoey pouts, holding me closer. I can't think about _him_ now...

Bay splutters, watching the bagon shiver and hold that other girl. He doesn't step up, but he doesn't step back either. Espa narrows her gaze, catching Vivi's and shaking her head curtly. F just snorts. But she doesn't say anything.

Quagsire is the first to break our new silence. "Hmmmm... well then I guess you'll just have to stay with us! How fun, mmhmm! You'll be joining us now, mmkay?" His smile just blooms. "Well, look at the bright side: mmmmmore stories frommmm mmmme."

Frigid Outspring stares at Jen, rolls her eyes, and slouches back, patting at the bagon with one of her wispy hands. "Well, I guess I have no choice. Eh, no big deal. I don't mind. I guess I'll become a soft-bellied ditz too. Not like I had anything better to do." She rolls her eyes. "Like our old pal Killer said, he has finished just about all of my family, eh? Natural disasters, demons... Gosh. Not sure how I survived." Ah... she doesn't care. W-Well... I don't mind too much.

"Really though, why aren't all you soft-bellied ditzes freaking out or something about the fact that Killer here's killed my family?"

I suck in a breath and step forward. T-T-T-Tii-i-iii-imm is _my_ re-responsibility, a-anyways... "Because he's killed a lot of things in his life. An-And we're trying to... help him with that." I look away.

"Hm. Well stay away from me, little one. You're just brimming with light and healing, and it's making me rather uncomfortable." Spluttering, I fall back then. Zoey grunts, arm entwining mine.

Jen releases her grip some.

When Quagsire starts off again, and the pans follow suit, and we go after him, more or less into our old patterns again. F without Nayomi, but toward the back with Bay. Jen more in the middle and practically attached to our new... friend. Even if she is so uncaring about much of what we've glossed over... well... she's _kinder_ than I thought she would be. I think. I don't know. Sh-She didn't hurt anyone. N-Not physically.

Vivi and Espa and Umbre stay just near us. We're more quiet now, Umbre especially with those jokes of his, thoughts of our own swirling in wonder. When we are this silent, it's easier to hear the commotion of steps and motion all around us—steps and motion that don't particularly belong to us. Other rogues like Frigid Outspring... I'm scared... th-though I suppose I can't help it, and it's almost expected by this time. Zoey is gentle toward me... if not gentler. Tim has gone and disappeared somewhere again. I'm sure he's still nearby.

Throughout all of these interactions, Nayomi has been silent. It's not unless Espa or Vivi mumbles something about distrust, fear, and what sort of monsters are ahead that an ear twitches and she does waken. I merely hold the poor, exhausted little thing close, and I think I smile a little bit, because she is very relaxing and sweet...

 **We meet Frigid Outspring! Yaaaaay! Anyone like her? XD She is different than the others... in more than a couple ways. Although she kinda reminds me of Ember. Is it just me or do I have a reason to feel like people don't like Ember xD Personally I love that guy... hahaha.**

 **Do you think there was truth in her words about "soft-bellied ditzes"?**

 **And then Tim tries to be cool but ultimately fails because he's not cool xD  
**

 **Tim: … =w=**


	12. Outside of the Mind

Chapter 12: Outside of the Mind

 _It feels safer to take steps away rather than placing them forward—retreat than advance—so I do so. Multiple times. I'm in angst, yes, toying with it. Playing in it. I'm in angst. Doubt. The landscape about me constantly molds and changes into all the fun it feels like changing into. I'm trapped in a cage of clay as the potter slowly, slowly carves about me... and if I wait maybe the tool will cut me open and kill me._

 _But that's foolish thinking: so long as the carver of sorts isn't Tim, I'm alive. Although being sliced in half by a sharpened structure would... would kill me, right? No? I don't know. It should. It sounds like it should. Would it bounce off of me or dissolve in my presence? Or as Frigid Outspring called it, would my "light and healing" aura... I don't know... disintegrate it? Pff, kill it? Can I kill?_

 _The cold crushing in my skull is as if I swallowed marble._

 _No. I can't kill. And I don't ever want to._

 _Wherever my footprints go, they stick in and stay like steps in the sand. Only the sand will eventually leave: what, am I sculpting as well? I-I shouldn't be given such a job, I'm no good... be-besides, Tim surpasses me in strength and all sorts of things... e-ehhh. The newly-painted trees in front of me shiver amongst each other. Like gossip. About me. I swallow and turn back._

 _Each step only brings me further away. But from what? I want to scream. Just a little bit. Screaming is loud and breaks things, breaks heads, headaches, pain, yelling, silence. Silence comes along at some point in the story._

 _Faintly, though it's a lame thought, I wonder if Tim will appear and save me. Or something. That sounds like what Tim would do: randomly show up, scoop me out of the air, take me away somewhere. But Zoey wouldn't like that. But if there's anything I know, Zoey isn't here. She can't be. She's not... not like_ that _. Not like_ us _. Ulgh. I wish she was._

 _But I don't want her to kill anyone! The thought of that sweet, innocent little face blotted with blood... oh, perish my hopes. They won't get me anywhere. Besides, she's already had her fair share of red on her body: Tim's... Tim's nigh done bad things to her. Bad things... bad things end in death. I don't rather like death. N-No. Not very much._

 _All of my friends are going to die one day, this unknown date approaching closer and closer with each passing day, and here I am complaining about it? Does that make me a snob? A little, poisonous snob? Life is life and it goes on._

 _It's so lonely in here._

 _Even with the ever-shaping landscape, the clay clouds, the dirt dunes, constructed haphazardly and only some with color... I'm still, behind all that, encased. Encased. If I look up, there may be a light, but it's so high up and I am so small... and I... I can't fly! Elijah could. Wh-When he died. That is. He carried me a-a-and then we both flew. Oh, stop thinking about him. He's gone. Only it doesn't feel like it when I'm here... stupid..._

 _Who is the creator of my perpetual zone? Who is the one with their hands all over this place? Why can I not see them? I shoot with stones at intangible answers: Darkie, Quagsire, Zoey—Tim? Darkie feels the most plausible. That... f-friend of... of mine. It's funny. She appears to side with the timburr, and yet she's certainly not as we never saw her beside him. They never planned together, never worked in sync. Always was something so off._

 _We dance and we dance around each other's stones, but none of them ever sink in. Unlike this clay: if my feet fail, the imprint is there. We leave no mark. There is no collision. Dance and dance... Idly, stupidly, I spin like a ditz in circles. Like the ditzes Frigid Outspring called us. Why was Jen so fanciful to that rogue? Was it really... the memory preserved in her head... of that... that chespin and that mienfoo she so missed? They aren't... very similar to our new froslass recruit._

 _Quagsire spoke of coal still stinking in the world... black, black coal..._

 _I wish I knew where Darkie was now. It's been so long since I've last seen her—no, that's not a blessing, she's... she's in hiding. Her thoughts and her placement, all under veil. Only the occasional pass of her in a... dream. I mean... it's plausible. This could... this could be her. There is a way. It could be. I doubt so, but it... it could be._

 _A glance to one side reveals a shadowy figure. This one sits on the ground like mine, only its feet won't sink into clay-like soil. It is small, yellow and white and black, small with big eyes. One hand peels over mine, tugs me casually upwards. I glance toward the hazy light in that direction._

 _Lips move that I can't read. Blinking, squinting, I shrug, nod. It pulls me, a great gale force like a wind propelling it—something—there is strength beneath it—and I only follow weakly. Up, up, up, up... it reminds me of when Elijah did find me... s-sure, he was dead, but he flew... Only this is too small to be Elijah. Too small... to be him..._

BRRRRNG!

 _Darkness in solid has stopped up the top. I glance warily: intricate markings along the line above suggest a hand, something, stuck. Unmoving. Smoky and black, strong like a bludgeon. And I sigh, of course, as we slowly fall back to the ground._

 _Will the impact hurt? Will my "light and healing" dissolve it? Disintegrate it? Or will it hurt? Will it hurt? I can't help but wonder how badly it might hur—_

"A-AHhh... hhhhh..." Futile. It was all futile. I don't know if the fall hurt. Have I ever slipped from that far above? As far as I know, no. Would it hurt? I guess it's a kind of morbid curiosity, on the feelings rushing through my scales and below. If things that aren't caused by Tim have anything other than null effect on me. Because truly I don't know. His fingers have touched and soiled so much of the world that there's nigh nothing left... When Quagsire walks, a slow regeneration follows: I have yet to see much change on me.

Y-Yes. Kyo is... dare I say better now. But that's not it. It's not. Oh, but thinking of Kyo reminds me of Roland... and Roland brings back memories of other bad times, of bad things that nigh cut my throat open, bad times... bad times. I take a breath for myself and close my eyes. Open them gently. Zoey's around here somewhere... as is Tim. And everyone else. A-At least. It _should_ be everyone else... excuse my language but I'm afraid I hate that kind of thinking. Yet I can't help it. Oh...

My head hurts... a little bit...

Where are we going today? Further, I guess. Further away from what was once a home. Away from strange Mystery Dungeons unaffected—majorly—by the likes of Tim and myself. We will see Mary again... right? I-I understand her staying behind, perhaps even knowing before us what lays ahead... but that doesn't mean we'll leave her. O-Of course not. Mary is our friend. And Quagsire... _really_ likes her. But she to him, may it be.

Vivi was right. Our surroundings are closing in on us. Like we're prey for the monsters that wait ahead... I-I could... I could see that. It makes me quite... quite nervous. There must be others out there not unlike Frigid Outspring; those others aren't required to act like her. They may be more vocal, more physical. Less friendly. Mmh. If I look up and see a light, will it be snuffed out as well? Is Darkie up there?

Is anyone?

These could just be my own thoughts slowly spiraling out of control. I could be losing "it" which is only losing "myself." Not anyone else. What if I was mental? Living inside of my head all this time? No one above; no one below. But if it was like a dream and I woke up only to pierce into the emptiness of this null world... n-n-no. I don't think this is emptiness of a null world. But there is something... something very, very wrong with it. Wrong with us. Wrong with everything...

Oh yes. Tim. How could I forget? I stumble in place.

We might be fools. Soft-bellied ditzes, like our new friend so called us. Idiots: only with some strange, unquenchable urge to roam out into a world that plucks us off one by one. Although now that I think of it and recall the villagers of Post Town, outside of Mary and Quagsire and Zoey... they weren't much any better than this. Gaurdio, when we first met him, had been stopped up with indifference and hate; Vivi didn't want "friends" or anyone for that matter; Espa and Umbre only found us because they were being chased by Darkie's monsters. Ember and Cheeka... w-well. They are Ember and Cheeka, not much more to be said.

Like prizes, I count their faces before I sleep.

The world swaddled about us is so cold, so relentless. Perchance it would change if I had been the one to waken and use my... "power" first. If that's even what it is. I suppose; Vivi, F, and Kyo are entities powered by body and soul, somewhat germinally planted above us all: legends. They should be more powerful than me... only well they're not. As with Cheeka and Ember, who fall in their own niche. Bay is less strong, as with Jen, a-as was Elijah, but the ones prior—wh-who are still alive—have taken... strange embodiments of my power and propelled themselves further on for a time.

Jen has transformed into a bulky, great beast. Salamance. Yes that. Dragon.

Bay as well has taken to his own strange, otherworldly form. Like a dragon, more a serpent, winged, golden, billowing with light upon its lips. Yes. They could do that.

Espa and Umbre are particularly powerful on their own. They share love and skill and a craftsmanship that compels others... Qu-Quite amazing. Frigid Outspring is still alive; I think that speaks enough about her strength. Quagsire, I think, might be above us all, legends and Tim and me... alongside Mary. Of some sort. They are quite... unimaginable.

Sweet little Nayomi comes to me in the middle of the night now and constantly tells stories about these dreams of hers. They're frightening in color, in dolor. Vivid...

Oh, what kind of a sorry lot are we? We're nearing the loss of half of our friends— _half—_ not quite reached—preferably never reached: still the number stands. There are legends gone mad within our ranks, we have Killer himself with us, dead friends and relatives and torn memories, and Zoey... Zoey is... she doesn't even belong in our mess, does she! She's not... that strange. Magic doesn't control her motions like strings to a puppet: she shouldn't be in this play we've crafted. Her ties should be severed, only why does she stay..?

Beggars. Quagsire said Zoey was one of them, didn't he?

She hates Tim. Well... she's never said so. But the way she looks at him suggests revenge, hate, animosity burbling over within her tiny oshawott body. Trapped. And yet Gnawing. Needing, needing, waiting... for destruction. She hates him. She truly hates him. Danger, despite, distrust. Hate.

The world around us sits in such a dark atmosphere... it's stifling to breathe. Though again, I recall, I don't need air. I don't need to keep these lungs moving. I could stop breathing. I could launch myself down a cliff. I could do so many stupid, delirious things because I know in my heart and in my soul I won't be dead. That must make me a monstrous idiot. But aren't I already one for even considering?

No. That's not the reason. I can't save... I can't stop... they're all _dying_... all my fault. My fault... I did... I did... I did all of it. It's because of me... me... I swear... I swear it was all me... Tim didn't kill Nayomi but the parents are gone and I didn't... I... should I stay near him? Chain him to me? Chain a monster to a... another monster? Would that keep him at bay? But how chain him? I'm not... strong. I'm weak. My fault. I'm so weak. The blood on my hands... this blood on my hands... all this blood...

Small... breaths. Small breaths. I still feel like I'm drowning. It's no use. That's... okay. Maybe I deserve it. I won't die if I stop breathing. But it's a weird thought... weird feeling... my fault... ullgh...

I think... if I... if I focus a little bit, I can see—I can hear voices. Silhouettes guide across the streaming area, ink blots connecting dots of confusion: they're... they're rogues again, I think. More rogues. Friends of... friends of Frigid Outspring, perhaps? Well. Tim killed most of them. My fault. But still... others? Maybe she knows others. I think Jen is still attached to her... I think... it's hard to walk. Head still hurts.

Who are they, then? I want to ask their names but my tongue is so swollen in my throat and everything aches that I doubt I could find the strength in me. They're not laughing... but... they're not any form of cruel, not like... not like. I don't look at her. But they don't sound very mean. Pleasing. Some tease. Zesty. Passionate. There is no room for cruelty. Bluntness, but not cruelty.

Are they beggars too...?

"Hmmm... And who are you? Would you be, hmmmm... friends? Friends too?"

"Eh. Yeah, sure. Call us that. We're jus' passin' through. Hey, Frigi."

"You know I hate that name."

"Eh. That's why I call you it."

"Hmm-hmmm! Friendly friends~"

"Eh. Yeah. Name's Zello Hios. That over there's Meagan. We don't bite. Mostly. Eh eh."

Voices are dancing inside of my head. They're alive, like smoke on the walls. Dancing. I can hear them roar... it doesn't matter if they're alive or not... I wonder what it is. I wonder what these rogues are this time. The world around me is still so dark, I pull out a hand and can't see it. Writing in my eyes... It feels like there's writing scritch-scritch-scratching across my eyes... no, not writing. Pins. Yes. Pins, needles, things that are sharp and fall from trees. Sticking into me like little pinpoints, this is where we must go next, _shluck_.

They are gentler. It's palpable how much they don't... harm. Not so much. They're still alive. Tim doesn't kill them—far as I can tell. Not mean... not rude. No, not of any kind. Perhaps not beggars, then. Maybe on the scale of powers they are present somewhere mightier as well. Perhaps Espa and Umbre.

Breathe... breathe...

Such a sweet duo. Constantly strolling together, their words thoughtful and thoughtless yet meaningful, powerful. Each little whisper they share... Their childhood as we know was a rougher one, what with being on the move so often, but their personalities clash with the lifestyle. So giggly and childish... simple and sweet.

Simple and sweet...

"Eh. Where the heck're all you going?"

"Mmm, why how kind of you for asking. We're on an adventure! It's a bit of a long story, mmhmm. But I mmmmay as well try to shorten it for you; to basically the world is a mmmmess and we're looking for the place and abilities to clean it with. Hmm? Does that mmmake sense? It's a lot of dirty work. 'specially with that timmmmburr over there—see himmm? Black fur? Yeah, he's a big dummmmmy. Mmmmakes it harder. But we need himmmm. So.

"What's up with you guys? Stories are fun."

"Eh. We got nothin' that promising, I must tell you. We're both pretty much hand-picked from the start if we're still alive. Dang lucky, right? Eh eh eh eh."

"Your story mmmust be mmmmore than thaaaaaat! Hmm! You gotta tell it!"

"Eh eh? A quagsire threatening me? Eh. I'm down for that. I guess I'll tell you."

And here I am. Stumbling over my own thoughts and words... Jealous and in pain and missing pieces and parts of me. Were they ripped out, or did I lose them? Or did I never have them to begin with? I'm almost used to this feeling... of fear, of death and loss, of _bad things_. O-Oh yes. There is still a majority alive at this time, but will that number fall at night like the tides of the seas? Foamy waters sucking dangerously at our feet and each step we take... and each step could be our last... and if we never step again then we fall, fall, fall...

But it's not a question of "we." Oh, no, how I dare wish. It's "them." Them and their falling and their being knocked like pawns, a test just to see which will be hand-picked into today, and when will they die anyways? Like the big, stocky, shell-covered carracosta was saying—Zello Hios—him—hand-picked toward victory... Led to that golden light and still they are locked up, swept away from it. Stains on the earth that deserve to rot beneath such a presence. Or maybe just jealousy. Or hate or... or vengeance. Or boredom. It's almost too much to question.

What did Ember call it? A web. A trap. Ensnarement slowly creeping along up your spine until you finally, fruitlessly realize you're all but swallowed into it. A monster of chaos... a big, burbling, bubbly mess of decay. Swamping, swamping, at your feet like the ocean, then your ankles, torso, before you know it you're gone. Gone... gone. And it's over. That's them. They stand those chances of losing... _dying_. That's them. All them. And I... don't like it. I almost wish I was born mortal myself.

If my body is mortal... what is my mind? Am I completely incapable of being harmed? Well. No. Tim. _No_. But other than his shadow of a being within me... other than his own violent touch... what am I? Truly, no, what am I? Am I... a monster? Am I a monster? I might be a monster. I could see that. Yes. I would believe it in a heartbeat if Darkie gently took my head in her hands and whispered into my skull, _I am a monster._ Well. _You are a monster_. No, not she. I'm sure she thinks she's the kindest girl out there. Sees herself skipping in dandelions... o-or something. Petals and rosebuds.

What am I?  
It doesn't matter. No.  
I don't matter.

Not a bit... not a bit... so I say, so I say...

"Then tell us, before we go on, what _is_ your story, hmmmmm?"

"Can I tell it, Zello?"

"Eh, sure. Knock yourself out, girl." Meagan. Right?

"Heh, thank you! So um... We actually hadn't met each other until much later on! You all... well no. Who's a good age marker? Ah, yes. The eeveeloutions, yes, you. I think we're some time older than you. There. I believe that gives you a good idea." Older than Tim, then. Because we're the same age. Because Espa and Umbre are older than me. "Ahhh... don't you remember what Death Central was _like_ back then? Oh, it was _Pacifist_ Central! Hah! Oh, I love my bad jokes. Anyhoo...

"Again, it was nice. Nobody died. Not that often, anyway. There wasn't much of a reason to get killed. But I think my great-aunt—see, my parents were dead—she said that Truught had moments like that. Where everything was peaceful. Like an aftermath and then a start again. Hoo, she knew what she was saying, that lady! Her wisdom spans across the moon, and it still does from her everafter, may she rest in peace!"

A lowering of the feather-like tone. "Because without warning, one morning... death." I can almost catch a glimpse of her waxy, angular face—drenched in black bows and gothic long hair. "You just wake up and it's all the sky's pouring, black like my hair—perpetually mourning? But why..? I'd wonder, right? Why all the blackness? Why in the world is the sky full of sadness? And it's... it's funny. Because we don't know. And we never do."

"Well actually—"

"Ohhh, dear Frigi, I don't care."

"Well gee. _Thanks_."

"You're welcome. So anyways. Where was I? Oh yes. Black. Mourning. Everything smelled like decay! I wake up, roll over, and my mate's face is gouged in with markings. I like... tap at him, just to be sure. And yeah. He's dead. I look over. Our newborn's gone. Somehow not too surprised, looking at what happened to him. But I did wonder why they never got to me, and I still do."

Tim grumbles, "Maybe he forgot to kill you." His face is oddly red, like he's embarrassed about the fact that he didn't.

"Arhh, no, I don't think so. That's a weird answer. And how do you know it's one he?" Tim just glares at the rocks. "Well moving on. Our dear old pal Zello Hios had a great big family once! His made it through that first morning—y'know, the one where everything changed, and I woke up and the kid was gone—yeah, that."

Espa's face goes sour. She nervously twitches in place. Her paw rubs against her swollen belly.

"Zello Hios had soooooo many younger siblings. A few older too. Oh, and parents. Yes, that as well. One big, happy family... and one big, happily family that is divided cannot stand, no? Arguments. Fights. Deaths. Oh, yes, they made it awhile before it came to that, but there were so many corpses... it was hard to breathe... it was so... freaking black." My vision goes out again. I caught glimpses, I held them, I tried and tried... now it's gone again.

"So anyways, besides that... well. Lots of running, lots of indifference. Ya can't blame Frigi's approach to the situation, although I think it's a bit sad. 'I don't care.' Yes, of course you don't. _Course_. There's always someone. Feelings can't be helped. They're like life. Not fair, no, not fair at all." Not fair at all... "Oh, but we should probably be on our way. Yes, I think so. Deth said we should go fast, not slow."

Coughing. "Hm! Excuse mmmme, but Deth? Deth as in... the squat litwick? You know, with the weird eyes, hmmm?"

"Oh, yes, him! Him, yes. He's just further, if you keep going more. He's a good bloke. You know him?"

"Oh, do I know himmm. Hmm. But we should be off, as should you."

"To meeting again one day!"

"Eh."

Frigid Outspring mutters something unintelligible.

I think they were like her, too. And I don't know if I like them much at all. They're so... so... blinding. With their words. Actions. Feelings. It's all so blinding, so mind-numbing, the stark contrast betwixt them and us. And me. Oh, why me. I must be on the complete opposite of these black-feeding creatures: them eating in the dark with their heads full of hate... and then there's just _me_ , and _us_ , and even _Tim_ is above them, though he was always above all of us. Them. No. Not me. Why me. Not me. I'm surrounded at all ends by this suffocating sensation—I suppose it wasn't just a mortal thing after all. My heart is heavy, my head so hurts. And every time I think I think of them—my fault, my fault, they're dead now... Mina and Roland and Elijah and... and Elijah's parents and... everyone. They're all dead. The words just laugh at me from my grave. Dead, dead, dead. I'm blind.

Everywhere, isn't it? That's what Ember was telling me all about. And it is everywhere. We're the... the exception. Aren't we? Of some sort. Was Frigid Outspring... then... say... jealous... when she met us? Is that why she mocked us? Because... because... nnh. She doesn't like me. No, no, she doesn't like me at all. She wants me away. Away... I feel so numb... I just feel so numb... I can't help myself and I just feel so numb...

But I don't want her to feel that way... E-Eh. At the least, she isn't dead. That's... that's a... good thing. Yes. Yes it is. Very.

We pass by another creature. Directly. Quagsire tries to catch her attention as well. She stops on her feet, quadrupedal figure still. Quiet. Twitching green fur, a little bit. Then the gogoat was gone... so I guess they aren't all indifferent and drowning with their words. N-Not all of them. Some of them are... so broken that...

I sigh.

But there are others out there, too, aren't there? Roland... Roland was only in Mystery Dungeons shrouded in darkness not particularly unlike like these places—but didn't he come from around here? The thought of him is like pushing a blade into my heart so I decide against it. Against whatever it is going on in my head. It hurts. It really, really does.

Sometimes I wonder what it is waiting for us whenever we'll be done. Truly... just whenever we're out of this cavern-like tunnel. When we reach the end of the boulders and find some form of sunlight again. What will that be like? Perhaps our surroundings will only further take in on us, swallow up the steps we took and hunger to be closer. No... it can't get much more confined than this. Deth, who is Deth? Will we see Deth?

Or maybe something else entirely. A being one cannot imagine... otherworldly presence... no. Tim and I are the... ulh. But still I feel like the farther we entangle ourselves in this desperate, starving web of life... the farther we plunge into depths of nightmares previously unimaginable. Things from Tim's head slowly melting into the horizon, into our lives... Creation unable to be understood. Each turn must await something new... and the web slowly, slowly digests...

I tug at the hand nearest mine. I stop in place. Slow pointing. What is that? What is that? What is the tiny, green-tinged thing doing right there..? The one with the spines, the chocolate brown face... so small... so desperate, family stripped to nothing around them...

There is a mark on his face not unlike the one that deserted Jen's. Only this one isn't black but red. Red, crusty—oh. I hold my breath down my throat. Old... dried... blood.

What is your name, someone asks him softly. His name is Olive. He is alone. He has been alone. His brother... his brother... he thought his brother was okay, but then... bad things happen.

Yes, bad things happen. You should come with us.

And he does. Right by Nayomi's side. The little things share sad glances with their big, dark eyes.

Bad things happen...

 **Sorta sad chapter... TTvTT And messed up. Yes! Yes! Llana's mind _is_ being lost! She most certainly is going insane! (suspense suspense)**

 **Tim: … -sad tim face-**

 **Zoey: -elbows him- ewe**

 **Tim: p^p**

 **Zoey: -elbows him harder-**

 **Oh, also! Thank you to** **Number 15 Ugxs Dangerous Laugh or who is now The Transform Queen Genevieve for the OCs! These were from such a long time ago now but I did it! Yay! ^^**

 **Oh right the OCs are Meagan, Zello Hios, and Munmun (the gogoat who sort of startled off). So thank you for letting me use them! ^^**


	13. Starlight

Chapter 13: Starlight...

A rounded path, well-traveled and worn in, leads like a fairytale into the magical home within. Ancient, Quagsire warns us, an ancient and old palace of sorts built by those not unlike Gaurdio: so long ago that the floorboards are beneath a carpet of dirt and the windows have glossed over in webs. Webs of... the... bug element. Arachnids. They stick to my fingers like white satin gloves... Frigid Outspring sneezes haughtily.

Zoey holds fast to my wrist. She refuses to let go. Of course... of course. In my one arm, pressed against me, I hold Nayomi; Olive has her hand and he follows profusely. So small, on stubby little feet—but he screeched when Zoey tried to pick him up. I don't know if he doesn't like her or refuses to be held like the child he is. The latter, probably. I-I at least can't see a reason to dislike Zoey in the slightest.

Although I am biased.

Wood curves in ways I didn't know it could on the way upwards. There is a thick, heavy door nailed in with chains—makeshift drawbridge?—that slowly churns downward as from above they must see us. I glance at the moat below. Oh. It's red. It's such a lively red. Not until we've begun to cross on the creaky old wood do I realize it's not a moat but a mass of corpses.

So that's what's... happened to them. T-T-T-Too many to bury... h-huh? I'm sorry Tim but every bit of me wants to vomit—I can't even think of trying to c-congratulate you.

Though that doesn't really make sense, why would I say that to the face of... of... we-well... Oh, I feel sick. That was a crummy idea. Why did I even think of it? I try to focus on the oshawott beside me; her steps so sure, her murmur back to me soft and pure. Innocence. Isn't she... innocent? The sparkling gaze searches back for me, she tugs gently, and I remember to move again. There's a haze of fog billowing off about us... it's eerie, clingy, cold... giving the abode in front of us a strangely warm embrace.

It is in some ways not unlike a fairytale: but which kind, I wonder? There is the vileness of a monster and the cuteness with gingerbread cropping of a princess. Neither? Both?

Relief is evident as the drawbridge ties back up behind us. In the gloom, we have to squint, to swim through the sea of inkiness. Then Ember pushes his way past, holding his tail in one hand, a flame sparking within it.

My best friend pulls me closer and whispers, lips on my ear, "I bet he's gonna burn himself!" Giggle. Her voice thickens. "It'll be so funny!"

"Zo-Zoey," I squeak in turn.

"Soooooo funny! Just you wait, Llana!"

The pansear turns his face back: fire dramatically lighting the edges. "I can hear you. Idiot." Scoff. "I'm psychic, Zoey. You know that."

"Hmmmm? What was thaaaat?" She just keeps laughing. "Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not _psychic_ like _you are_!"

Nayomi, in my arms, can't wipe a little grin from her cheeks. Olive from the other side just giggles outright. Fiery red ears folded back, Ember's gaze narrows, tail thrust in my dear Zoey's general direction without the intention of hitting her quite meeting his eyes. A snort and he turns back to the liquid blackness.

Little Olive whispers, chespin body pressed by mine, "It's as scary as a stunky is stinky, Miss! But you're the one who's scared, okay? You gotta be scared for me, or Roland'll look down from heaven and he won't be able to recognize me." I'm sure he can't see my nod—I'm so tall in comparison to the little one—but he's sweet... a sweet little thing... I try to void his words on his... on his brother. Y-Yes that.

His tiny, pointy fingers tighten around one of Nayomi's fallen hands as we thread closer to the midst of the dark-laced halls. I check behind once to see a bit of light toward the further back, keeping us all put together in a... less shady circle. F, it must be F. She's lit her fingers with fire, waving them around her head. Her sky blue eyes sparkle a little too dangerously for me to handle.

In front of us is Cheeka: just behind our candle. His ears have come unfolded, but the irk in his step suggests he'll never rid himself from the thought of the oshawott. He's never liked her. Irritable. Their personalities clash in a fight of a mess, cuts and blood all in the wrong places... I've never seen them once manage to connect. But I'm scared of them trying.

Nayomi sleeps at peace throughout the ensemble; Olive's silent, but a good-kid silent not completely a scared one. At least he's not crying... oh, what am I supposed to do if he's crying...

Luminous orbs, combusted over posts, arrive to meet us in the middle. Quagsire coughs loudly and knowingly from wherever he lies. The hallway afterword stretches and goes on, and on, and on until a pit of a clearing forms in the black-like haze. Ember grunts as we reach the end, tail raised high.

"I can't see much else around here. Maybe there's some creepy, hidden door, but I'm sure this is about it." Then he coughs, quartz eyes narrowed. "Damn, it's cold..." And it is cold... oof...

Nayomi doesn't waken from her sleep. The furry little one just stays curled in my arms... so silent and soft... and light. Her colors deem much lighter than the swallowing blackness surrounding. Zoey tugs on my hand and releases me in favor of not being pricked by Olive's spiny little hand. She moves toward Cheeka. Past Cheeka. I turn back from things I wouldn't like to see.

"Auhh, Zoey! Why are you always looking for me in particular anyways!"

"Because it's funner that way!"

"Funner's not a word, genius."

"Hmmmm... Sorry, what was that? I'm not _psychic_ , you know, so that makes me _really stupid_."

"FUCK YOU, ZOEY!"

The others shift from the entrance. They take their time moving back, peeling out of the way, as then another sharp blast of chill encroaches. It's hard to see where it's from as well... only that F's fingers have all flicked out. The winds are strong. Zoey, and Cheeka nearby, catching this shift, creep closer to the pansear. He manages not to further snap at my best friend when she shuffles with her fur against his. Although there is a bulge on his forehead that... sort of dances with his hate.

With the cold comes another light: bubbling, violent. It pools over the cold, stone floor and across some of our faces. Espa's distrust; Jen's anxiety; Frigid Outspring's indifference. From my side Olive shivers, pulling himself against me more. "Not scared," he mumbles, "not scared, not scared, not scared," gritting his teeth. Aw, the poor, sweet thing...

As purple touch coalesces along the walls, the ceiling even in places, collecting and filling like water toward the bottom. The light brushes over me, too—it's not very warm. Zoey must be faring well over in the back, blotted by Ember, tousled to Cheeka. Slowly, with the footsteps of Olive, I take a step back, and another, and anoth—

 _Chk!_

And I trip. A sharp sting cuts one leg, but it's... it's not so bad. Of course I fell. I stare stupidly at the uneven flooring. My fault. Oh yes. My fault. All my fault... this blood... I wipe at it with one hand—it's on my fingers... all my fault... oh, I can just see it... I just... I can just... my... mine... _mine_...

Pale fingers toss me backwards. Ember's jaded gaze burns over me. He mutters, "What the hell, Llana; just get up. Stop... pondering over your cut. Whatever. It's whatever. Dear god, what is it with you?"

"I killed them," I mumble.

"What are you talking about? Get up."

"I kill—"

"You did no such thing. Idiot. Get up."

Maybe it's his blunt tone or his hand on my shoulder, the hand so like but so unlike Tim's, or just the fact that he reasoned out what I was thinking, what I meant, but I let him pull me to my feet again. Nayomi's stirred now—oh, I suppose my fall woke her... but the cold didn't, and neither did the blackness or the stubbing of my toe earlier... but a fall... a fall would make sense... r-right?

Ember's burning eyes don't leave me as I stand there, all shivering and feeble in my coldblooded state. They all have fur. _Ember_ is a fire pokemon. They're not cold. He certainly is not cold. Not as cold at least. It's cold... it's v-very cold to me. I feel pathetic but I just keep shivering until Zoey shoves herself closer to me, trying to smile in the purple dim light mixed with Ember's tail. It's a... strange look...

Then finally the composer, the creator of this time and this space all around us, designed under his watchful eye and imagination: finally he lets himself in. The moment he does the kids squeak excitedly about me: Nayomi squirms out of my grip and sinks to the ground beside a somewhat taller Olive who points at the creepy gray man with giggles.

Said creepy gray man has the purple light upon his head, his creepy gaze hovering among us: one eye stark white and the other black. I think he can see out of both. I blink slowly. The shock sort of... got to me. A dripping smirk plasters over his face.

"Mmmmh." His voice is throaty, scratchy. "So _this_ is the troupe of weirdos who thought it was a good idea to come in. Now I'd like to know how you found me and why the heck you're still here. It's cold, ain't it? And you can't all be fiery furries. Nyah. I see some scales twinklin' in the dark. Well there's always the possibility you don't _care_ about the well-being of each other... hrr, well that ruins everything." Waxy eyes narrow. "Name's Deth. How abou—"

"Deethhhhhh, it's mmmmmeeeeeee!" Excitedly the quagsire flops about the others, churning his way to the front. He waves a hand happily. "I guess you can call themmmm mmmy friends. But I mmmean. I guess I'mmm a bit of a leader, too, but just a bit," he murmurs, and I can't tell if it's modesty or sarcasm.

The litwick's eyes turn up. "Hm? Mmmmh! Why, there's a face I haven't seen in ages! Man, I thought you'd all but forgot about me, mate! Why the heck haven't you visited? You should visit. You're my friend and you're not boring. Not boring at all, no. It's fun with you around. And you've brought I don't even know how many other guests who are apparently all friends! Wow, there is no way I have space for everyone!"

Quagsire shrugs. "Sommmme of themmm won't mmmind being put in the sammmme chammmbers. Like you see that eeveeloution duo? Yeah, with the girl who has the big stommmach? Mmhm, mmhmm? Yeah, they're mmmmates."

"QUAGSIRE!"

"Pshhh, Espa, chill! He's just trying to help!"

"Hmmmm! Of course I ammm!" The gleam in his gaze is so... so... untrustworthy. I cough.

Another voice protrudes. "Quagsire, is this even a good idea? Is Killer even allowed to sleep here?"

He chortles. "Ignore the girl, Deth. Frigid Outspring is a little paranoid sommmetimmmmes. Cute, isn't it?" He downplays every word without a single glance toward the timburr leaning by the wall: the timburr with the fur dyed ever darker by the shadows, the eyes sharp and cold in the flame, hands by his sides, claws hidden from view...

We-Well a litwick is a ghost um pokemon and ghosts are tough to... t-to kill. If that's much of anything.

"Well, now I'm curious, old pal! Who's Killer?"

He just swats his blue hand aside, laughs. "Oh, Killer? It's just a nicknammmme. Not a real nammmme, no, that'd be downright cruel to himmm, mmmh?"

Deth just snorts. His waxy smirk bubbles over into a grin. It makes me feel safer, I guess... but... The kids run off to him excitedly, and he's kind to them, laughing at their wide eyes, and that's good... but... oh, but... It's so cold in here... the ceiling, the walls, the floor doused in purple flame, the flame nothing but a light, a light without mirth behind it. Like Tim's shining eyes. That's what it was... I don't look toward him much anymore; the emotion pulsating behind it hurts to look at.

Black-and-white orbs address the old friend again. "It'd be rude to leave you all here in these old chambers! So cold! I only use these to draw off the bumbling fools who stumble in on here. My wife, she thinks I'm stupid, but hey! You know what I'm talking about, don't you—?" He pauses. Expectant.

"Hm. Quagsire." His smile is fluid and easy to believe. Keeping his name away from us. A name that Deth must know at least pieces of... little pieces he's given the privilege to hold.

"Okaaay! Quagsire, let's learn the names of all of your friends and get them into some nicer place to be! Man, why aren't y'all shivering already? I get that the fire guy back there's being his amiable self, and ol' F here thinks she's so great, but seriously! Man. Maybe I messed up somewhere and there's heat leaking. Hmmmn." His face pops brightly. "Oh well! We have guests, and these guests must be attended to~"

He hums a strange, strange tune when learning of our names. He does split us into rooms by preference—Espa with Umbre, Ember with Cheeka—these up on a much higher—and warmer—floor of his intense mansion of a home, and these guest chambers connect into a small living space with a great, violet fire roaring inside. Jen, amber eyes wide, places a hand over her lips when she moves toward it, twitching back quickly. The yellow-scaled, friendly follower with her tries to nose her on.

Zoey is the first to notice how soft the bedding is. "It's, like... it's not even hay or moss or... or anything! It's like Mary's feathers soft... without being wet, haaah. Only it's caught into this fabric... and there's more fabrics on it... and oh my goshhhhh I need to ask that guy where he gets all this class! It's too overwhelming! I love it heeeereee!"

The pans take their room connected to ours, and the moment my best friend shares her outburst, Ember's reddened face pokes through our shared hallway. His quartz orbs sharpen back at her; reluctantly, instead of returning, he follows Zoey's shiny watery orbs and plunks himself onto the bedding. The blue one following quickly joins him. Her face is redder.

"Okay. You're right. It's freaking soft." Ember grimaces. "So?"

She giggles. "So? That's only the beginning! C'mon, Llana! Llana, get over her! We gotta show Ember how cool it is here! Remember: overwhelming!"

I awkwardly pull myself toward the covers and the bedding, the softness I soon sink into, pulling at it as it eats me, toes to stomach to... o-oh, it stopped. A-Ah. I breathe slowly. Ember, when he catches my gaze, can't stuff a chuckle down. The panpour by his side, pale fingers curled in her lap, watches me with wide, nervous eyes. I try to wave and fall flat on my face.

In attempt to support my best friend, I splutter, "Ve-Ve-Very overwhelming, a-as you can s-see!" Coughs wrack my fuzz-lined tongue as I try and try again, only the words won't scrape from off of my throat. It's strangely stifling beneath the covers... almost hot. Much, much warmer than that downstairs where everything seemed to end... heat rushes to my cheeks.

Zoey's fingers peel back at me: there's a splutter here, a squeak there, a cry in the midst of it. "Lllaaaaaaanaaaaaaa! Don't leaaaaaave meeeeeeeeee! Waaaaaahhhhhhhh!" She continues her scrabbling and my head finds itself buffeted by warm, cooler air. My auburn orbs catch Ember's pale hands by my head, Cheeka's over her face where she crouches in giggles, and Zoey of course yanking me into the air.

"Psh..." Our fiery friend shakes his head, face contorted. "Zoey, you could've fucking killed her! Be careful, you ditz!" He tries his hardest, his very hardest, to keep eyes narrowed and face bare, but his cheeks still pinch and redden regularly. Snarling at himself, his lip curls and he crosses his arms over his chest. That whorl of red hair over his head twists over his eyes.

Some of the energy drains from Zoey's face as she pulls me close to her; white, furry arms, so soft and small and tight, they hold me so close... my head falls into her fingers. Head over mine, I can't catch the feelings she tosses at Ember through her eyes, but in response he winces. A little sullen bit of shadow catches him by the head.

"E-Ehh..." Cheeka tosses herself up toward us, head tilted down, wavy blue curls shrouding her: hands in front. Toward Ember, toward Zoey, around me. Her great, pink eyes, strained with energy, now tear. Small breaths, she breaths in small breaths. "Stop being so... sad. It makes me feel... sad!" She speaks softly, voice wobbly. "You don't have to be sad right now! Or mad! O-Or anything! It's _safe_ here... safe, safe, safe..." she whispers, then, hands clinching like she can take the words and hold them now.

Gently Ember shares a glance with us, pulls toward his... his Cheeka. "Hey. It's okay. You're right, really..."

Zoey releases me, gently elbows me. "I think he's embarrassed to be doing this in front of us," she whispers.

I nod, smiling shyly at the crooked earth beneath us. Somehow it feels warmer now, sweeter. It's not stuffy, suffocating like beneath all those covers on that soft bedding, but it's not the chill of the first room anymore, either. He's not paying any heed toward us, voice too tender and quiet for us to hear, only his ears blushing angrily back at us, but I can't help yet watch. Ember's gone so... different. Different from the annoyed pansear who picks at others in moments. Different from a begrudging acceptance. Different... I've never seen him so vulnerable.

He's revealing things inside of him to us without meaning to. He's trying, ears so red and angry, he's not asking for this, but he is. Maybe he's not... prickly. Maybe it's the shell he wears, but it's not him. Not really him. Or maybe he is as sharp as he looks, but Cheeka wore him down in spots... no. No, he's always known her. She's always been there. Always been that. Always been a piece of him...

Morbidly the thoughts pile. They won't go away. Tim's in my head—or am I Tim? Am I like... am I like... what if... wha _t if_... wh _at if_ he lo _st he_ r? W _hat if_ s _he died? What_ if she _was hurt_ so b _adly she w_ asn't the same ag _a_ in? What wo _uld he... what_ would he... oh, oh, oh, don't think that way, please, _please_ don't think of something that horrible... please don't, please don't, please, please, please, please...

Eyes scrunched, head in hands, I don't even know I hit the ground until Zoey is there. She's silent, but just the fact that I feel her, that I know... I breathe... I breathe... breathe... oh, gosh, why do my thoughts have to be so sinister..? Why is this now normal? To presume they could easily... easily...

"Hey... Ll-Llana." The masculine voice sends a trill through my heart. "Relax. Really. We're fine. Like Cheeka's saying... we're safe. Really. It's safe here. We can take it easy, kick back... and I think some of us have... needed this for a long time. Heh."

"H-Hi, Ember," I whimper.

Zoey just laughs. "Man! When did you get so _soft_ , Emby?"

"Zoey shut the hell up I'm not paying any sort of attention to you now do me a favor and acknowledge that."

She actually goes off to the side of the chamber and plops herself on the ground. Without complaint, without whining. Quiet in her wet-oozing puddle, she smiles and waves back at the lot of us. Ember, face red—angry this time—sits himself beside me, Cheeka following suit. She's quiet too, waving happily back at the oshawott who then waves harder. Ember glares at her.

No words can explain their strange little relationship.

No, not quite hate. Not so caring, either. But it's something. There's _something_.

Mutual survival. As long as they're alive... they should help each other. Mutual... M-Mutual survival...

Ember is quiet. He has no more to say. His eyes, like marbles, roll blatantly over the chambers without word. His feet he keeps over the bedding, his ears and cheeks both a similar shade of blaring red. He has his lips pursed together, eyes pinched together, hands pressed together: and he lets it all out in a sigh. "You know, Llana, you're too much. You're like Tim in that. I mean, you're both too much, really. There's a reason you eke power all over the damn place.

"But that doesn't... that doesn't mean you're _bad_. You're not. Hell, you're anything but bad, I swear. But it's so easy to soil that... you're... I guess it's like pure. If you're pure, Tim's exactly the opposite—and I mean. He is. And he's another story. But if we're just focusing on you... Well, Llana! You're... too much. Heh. But you're not a bad too much, I just worry about the worst... Be careful. We don't want you getting hurt." He swallows as if he's in pain. "I. I don't want you getting hurt. I don't." He mumbles something, then, too quietly to tell me.

He is shy. And that voice is quiet. It's hiding. It wants to stay deep down inside... but if it never comes out...

I pull my eyes to the ground near his feet and can't move much more... th-that's fine. That's fine. "Tha...um... Thank you. That's... that's nice of you." I wince. But it is! But it is...

He's still soft, but then he is quiet. Eyes jaded, thoughts hidden, Ember blinks, shakes his head, and tries at a smile. Winces. Stops smiling. Cheeka mumbles that he should smile because it's cute, and if she wasn't Cheeka, I'm sure his head would've snapped around and yelled filthy words back at her. But she is Cheeka.

"Yeaaaah! You're adorable, Emby!"

"ZOEY! HOW MANY TIMES TODAY HAVE I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF!"

"Well that's the first time you worded it _that_ way..."

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, DAMMIT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

I laugh quietly, just watching them... they're funny—and in a way sweet, the understanding wrapping about them like bows in the knowledge that they won't be hurting each other. Words are as far as they go, and even those feel exaggerated, more punches in the air. Like this is how they release their tension; this is how they get themselves to laugh... it makes me laugh... and it makes Cheeka laugh, and anything that paints a smile on her pretty face is enough to keep Ember going.

I see that now. He's much more thoughtful than he looks, isn't he? I can't help but enjoy his presence as much as Zoey...

But then how do I relieve my stress? I-I don't know. I don't know. It's not important... not important... my fault... isn't it..? It's still there... everywhere I go... everywhere... but if I don't tell anyone, then maybe... maybe... _maybe_...

 _Quagsire_

There are lots of stories out there in the world. More than anyone could ever hope to learn, more than ever could be kept into one single mind. But you can try. You can try until the blood in your body goes old and black and your heart stops beating. You can try until the world above you turns dark with hate: or Bittercold, if we're going by Stella's words; or Darkening; or Hatred; or simply Darkie. There was a time. There were more words for it, and more times than could ever be remembered. But you can try, if you want, to learn them all.

But there's too many. And that's okay. It's okay if there's too many. An old snivy knew this once. He had a mustache—white, fluffy—a strange garment for a coldblooded reptile. And he had a friend, a partner in raising their child, a fluffy one not unlike the color of his mustache. She wore a purple pendant and she had purple eyes, and they were always together before his own body began to break down.

The one with him—the fluffy one, they called her—she wanted to keep him alive. She wanted him alive as long as he could be. She was immortal, didn't matter what happened to her. The fluffy one tried and tried and use whatever powers she and the littler snivy had, to their extent and further, but of course he'd still grow old. Even in their little bubble, of course he'd still grow old and die eventually. It brought great pain to Stella when her Gerald died. She forgot about Llana and left... for quite some time.

She met Ember and Cheeka then. And Llana found Zoey. The story goes on after that, as more chains link together and the story goes on, and it continues still today. With Olive, with Frigid Outspring. With the others still to come—and Deth, even if he doesn't leave with us. And I know he won't, but that's okay. He and his wife are safe here. They'll be safe for a time much, much longer than Gerald ever was. What a shame Stella never learned...

The Bittercold is everywhere now, isn't it? Yes. It's in Llana, too. Only to be expected, what with all her Sweethot oozing into Tim. Yes, they're still pure, they're still on their special pedestal. Together. Dancing in death, sure, but together.

Zoey wishes. But she's so far below... if she was any higher—maybe. If she was like Jen and Bay, or even Espa, Umbre: but she's not. She's far, far below everyone. The bottom. If she was a little higher... but she's not. Sorry, doll. Poor girl. Zoey wishes.

Deth likes stories about the darkness. He stores them, since no one else can. I collect them for him sometimes. I hear about things, I'll hang around, I'll play messenger boy, sure. Mary's safe, and I'm happy about that, but we can live with me being messenger boy. I thought it'd stay like that until their story took me in, and now I'm with Llana, and I'm with Tim, and I understand all of them way too deeply to comprehend without pain to the mind.

They're all in different kinds of pain now. Like radioactive mutations, the Sweethot and the Bittercold have touched all of the souls in close tandem with it. Espa's in a dire place. Jen and Bay can master the power Llana pulls them into. Lady Munaah was a twisted little thing before she died. And Kyo... oh, poor soul. He and Vivi might as well be on opposite ends at this point.

So many of them have died in the crossfire, and I'm sure more will. Soon. Oh, yes, soon. None of them can escape it, so much as poor Llana wishes. So much as _I_ wish now. Because I have feelings too. Everyone cries if they're mortal. Mortal... what a thing so far out of my reach now. But I know how it feels. Oh, of course I do.

Poor Llana. She's only a piece now. She's a pawn, just as they all are. I can't even begin to fathom who's got the strings, who's controlling what: I think they're all trapped, and there's holes in everyone, connecting one to the other. And it's more like some control some, some are controlled by some, but they're all pulling in every which way... and it's a divine mess of sorts. Oh, yes. If there's anything I know. Mary's been telling me about how worried she is about the aftermath, what sorts of awful things will need to be cleansed when it's all over... and I share her pain.

Who's next? Isn't that always the question in their heads? They want to relax, but it's always there. They don't want to lose anyone else. They've been through much, much more than everyone's fair share as it is. F's constantly up at night. I don't think she has the will to sleep any longer. She's doesn't want to be asleep when anything happens, and the dreams that keep her up are too constant... not to mention little Nayomi. Hers are... oh, hers are... It's a sad thing, isn't it?

It's a sad thing. But I guess it can be a happy thing too, if you look at it right. It's dangerous, it's bad, it's that easy to die, but the relationships formed here are so strong, strong enough to block out some of the hazards, I'd say. Just look at them. Look at some of them. Look at the mess Cheeka is; look at how Ember comforts her. Notice the falling into a mess we come, and yet how calm and happy Zoey stays. Watch and learn as Vivi refuses to give up... and Umbre's intense loyalty. Look at it the wrong way and these all are flaws, these are all spots of weakness... but I like looking at it on the sunny side. It's my favorite side.

Mary does, too. And she'd be really disappointed in me if I went emo. Heh...

"Deth?"

"Mmmmh? What's up, old friend?"

"Would you like to hear about... mmm... a girl?" I'll tell him about Espa. I would like to.

"Ooh, surely. Just... Marmillio doesn't like it when you tell stories about Mary, so if it's about Mary, don't." Psh. They're both jealous of each other. It's funny. I've told Mary it's cute and she'll scoff at me like I'm crazy... sweet, sweet swanna.

So I tell him. "She was the plummmmp one you saw earlier, plummmmp with child? Yeah, she's a sweetheart, but she's also shy. Funny girl. She likes learning. Always has. Can't stand fights, they make her feel sick, mmh? So she's always run away, and Ummmbre with, that precious duo. Only now I'mmmm afraid that if she runs frommmm what's next... she'll be bad off, hmm. I wanna tell her not to, but..."

"Lemme guess. Sir, is it the black on her stomach?"

I just smile. It's twisted, it's sad... We'll try our best, I guess. Our best is all we have.

There are so many stories out there. Stories about darkness, about Darkie, about heroes, princesses, about legends, about coal in the hearts of beggars and scales of power that hold us in balance. Stories about what came before Llana, before Tim, and before even Stella. Stories about love and grief, about surprise and fear, about music and all kinds of things. And hidden in there are stories about things like Sir Ton, things like Roland and perfection's impossibility, all kinds of truths hidden in fakes...

Mary, are you doing okay right now? I know you're on your own, and I'm sorry it ended up that way, but it's not too bad, is it? I hope so. I don't want you crying at night as you look out the window, wishing on stars that don't shoot though the sky... crying and wishing until it's dawn.

I promise I'm trying my best. Now sleep well tonight, okay? Sleep well. You need it.

 **Gasp, surprise Quagsire POV! (hmm, why do we know Mary's name but not his? Great question! You get to think about it yourself, I'm not telling you everything xD)**

 **We hear snippets about F, about Espa and Umbre, some Ember, some of everyone, really! And whose do you think are the most important? Hmmmm? X3**

 **The story is now more than halfway done, heh, it makes me kinda sad... ;w; But I'm excited. Now that all kinds of tutorial aspects and things have been put down through chapter five, and we're exploring new things...  
It's a thing I want to do whenever I become an author... the plot is just the beginning. There's so much more in there... right? Heh. **

**Say, See you later, Quagsire!**

 **Quagsire: see you later, Quagsire~**

 **Me: …**

 **Quagsire: ^w^**


	14. Shining Down

Chapter 14: ...Shining Down...

 _Mary_

It's a little sad back here at Post Town. Psh. I call it a town, as it is in fact the only settlement of stubborn Truught, and yet it's as barren as anything else here. There's no one. The fire never quite reached the edges of our now-crestfallen Paradise, but the others have gone and cleared anyways. It's rather lonely here, eh? I know, dear, you didn't mean for it to be this way. You wanted Tim to stay with me, that jolly ditz. You wanted Zoey to stay. Roland. You asked Ember, then with Cheeka, and you asked F. Espa, Umbre... They all went with you and Llana.

It's okay. I understand. They want to come with, they want to help. They all have their own reasons. I only wish that nobody, truly nobody, ends with their fate in a hole in the ground. It would sadden me to no end if others join Mina, Burr, Elijah... Gaurdio. And what was it you said about poor, dear Roland? Oh, it is a shame... but I think we both know what will happen after him. There will be more, eh? There will be more. We're not even to the worst part, are we?

Frigid Outspring sounds like a silly one. Perhaps she'll warm up to the others sometime. I'm glad to hear that Ember has gotten a little less stubborn while he's gone. And are you sure Bay is faring well at this time? Heavens, darling! Be sure he doesn't crack! A strain on the poor thing may add to the gloom of everyone's composure, he's such a sweetie. As long as you say Jen is okay, okay.

Espa looked quite plump by the time you all left. Is she still faring well? Oh, I worry: why is a pregnant lady such as she going anyways? That was an awful idea! What do you mean, Umbre thought it was safer! She's walking just as much as the rest of them, and that can't be good with the little one growing in her stomach! I wish she stayed. Perhaps I am growing quite lonely, and I do love them all dearly, but still. That is no excuse for the poor espeon to go on... Is F still sleeping poorly? Oh, dear, I'm such a mother to them, now aren't I? It's something I can't help... heheh. Can't you tell?

Really, though, the most of my worry—after Espa, of course—goes to Vivi. Yes, and Kyo. You know I worry about saying his name. If he doesn't want me to say it, then why should I? What do you mean when you say that it might help him? Ah, but Vivi. You spoke like she found even walking the shortest distance cumbersome, now? Goodness gracious. Take them all home! They shouldn't be out there where the danger is much more imminent!

Although the danger is always around. He lurks with them, sleeps by them, eats the same food they eat and breathes their air, too. But he's not the real danger, is he? Not the only danger. There are many dangers out there, and while Tim is by far one of the most vocal, and perhaps he was once one of the deadliest... all kinds of his old, disowned creations lie in wait. And things before and before him, too. What did we call her? Oh, Darkie, right. She sounds a little sinister.

It's quiet here. I could scream, if I wanted to—but I don't—and I doubt a soul would stir in this place. There's simply no one around. It's... it's dead air, dead soil. I wonder if the inhabitants are dead as well. It sounds morbid, yes, but they never had much emotions in them anyways. They were... they were... foul beings. Unfortunately. Much more foul than the likes of those who live in "Death Central" as they call it. Sometimes I see glimpses of travelers, but they never stay for long. I like to imagine that one day someone kind will stumble upon me, and they'll stay with me for some time. It doesn't have to be forever; I already have someone for that. Yes, that's you... egoist. But it is rather cold in this area, and though I'd rather not, I need to stay here and wait...

Darling, why again did you have to go? What took you from this place? It was safer here, even with the fire and even with Tim and Llana in one contained area. Even with all that corruption smeared about. Why again didn't you just take _them_ , if you so had to leave? Why did you want to save? I wish that you did not go. We would be safe. We are always safe. What is the use of helping mortals..? Well. They are our friends.

But it's safer here. In... in some ways. I recognize that pokemon who were bad did find us when we were in Paradise, and then Paradise did burn to the ground. But what about here? Where I stay now? Why not everyone stay here and let just Tim and Llana go? Dear, I can understand you had to leave and take those deadly creatures away, but what was the use of more weight? I fear to think of their fates and how they might end—and when. Soon? Have more died before you've told me anything new? It keeps me thinking... and why does it matter, if it'll only happen all over again, eh?

Living in the moment... using what time is left... I don't understand I guess. It's been a little too long for me to process these things. Apologies. Would _they_ prefer to all go together, to help you with a chaos that's been budding for however long it's been now? Truught is Truught; some places don't change. Anguish rots within these depths...

Hm. It only makes sense, I suppose, that I've forgotten your germinal reason. I miss you. It keeps me up sometimes. I'd rather think about you than risk dreams about others. About sad things, about pokemon we knew before we met Zoey and Llana. They're long gone now, dust and bones under the earth. Like Burr. Oh, Burr was such a dear... he liked to sing, he didn't care if he couldn't hit the high notes all that well. Or the low notes for that matter. He just enjoyed the act of it, enjoyed making others laugh. Heavens, he considered Tim like a brother.

Mortals are so feeble, aren't they? Then what's the point, if they will only break again? If this heart of mine will only be hurt again knowing they shall inevitably crumble? I want to ask... why, oh why do I _care_ this much? What's making this happen? And why, again why? Why indeed.

Some questions don't have answers. I feel a mite bit helpless, when I think of it like that.

Sitting, then, staring back out the window, stars sew themselves together in their swirling seas of blue. It's pretty. I guess. It's been a sight that has stayed all this time that I've been here. Lonely... Lonely, isn't it, without you, my love, without you or anyone else? You were all so cheerful. It made me happy, seeing each and every smile and their different expression, different bits of joy and how it made them like so. My head I rest against one wing, and I can feel the weight of something great and unimaginable pressing against me. It's not really there, this I know, but it feels like it is, it really and truly does. I swallow, sigh, try not to cry.

You were all so cheerful... Forgive me, but it was before Elijah died, that was the best time. Because he was only... only the _first_ corpse, and thinking about it hurts a little. Before Elijah died... it was less then their numbers now, but not so much less. Vivi; friendly, spunky F. Espa and Umbre prior to their child. Mina, silly dear. Tim, he in some form as well. Zoey, Jen, Bay... Elijah, too. And Burr, oh, can't forget him. Ember and Cheeka... Llana. Gaurdio. It is most of them, but Roland hadn't come yet. No, not yet. Kyo happened just as Elijah... well. And Stella—oh, yes! I'm sure she counts too.

I haven't seen her for quite some time now. Where is she? Llana told me, before we all left, that Elijah found her when she was gone... when Burr and Mina were first dead, she saw him. Elijah. And he was dead, too, but he could fly, and he took her to a safe place, a castle in the sky. Like the ice one where he first died. But a castle of clouds, a castle in the sky...

Stella was there. Otherwise she's been missing. Where, then, I wonder where she's gone. She's protective over little Llana. Hmm...

I miss them. I miss their cheer, and their laughter. And even their grief, too.

My head I let rest by the window. I can't hold it myself, no, not now... no...

I miss everything about them. But they've all left now... in some attempt to save who they can... to make it... make it better? Better... oh, better...

Times weren't at all perfect, but that doesn't mean I didn't cherish them... so deeply...

Oh, it's so lonely here, darling... I understand I had to stay... but please... bring them back... bring them back safely... and may we go on living happily together...

 _F_

"Pah! Why does this, like, allllways have to be myyyy job? Gawwwsh, stupid kids! Like, what the heeeckkk!" Man, it stinks being stuck with the little ones. I mean, yeah, okay, whatever, they're cute, I won't be sleeping tonight anyways, I don't have anyone else to share a room with—heeyyyy! I am not a grumpy old troll! Now I sound like one! Gawsh! What is it with children and being stuck with the likes of, like, me!

Nayomi just gives me this hecking _look_ , like she's the most _innocent thing in the world_. I hiss at her and she waddles back, falls on her rump. When I narrow my huge eyes at her, she mirrors me. Then I wanna hiss again, but the freaking chespin scoots up in front of her and stuffs his brown hand in my face. He's trying to be soooooo coooool.

Like, kid. Stop. You're not. You won't be. But he tries anyways. "Miss Fireeah! Y-You gotta be nice to Nayomi! Being mean is super mean, and that makes you a _bad pokemon_." He whispers this last part like I'm hecking cursed now, I'm cursed as a gawsh-dang bad pokemon. Okay. Reality check. Excuse me for hating on a child. It's not like I'm, like, abusing her... gah! No! Not even an idiot like me would go that low!

It'd be funny if I, like, put all the blame on the kids. Like, that it's their fault I can't sleep, and it's their fault I'm never at ease... but that'd be worse. They hecking radiate innocence, that little child misunderstanding of cute inability... man, must be nice for them. We sorta drag them around, pin them to Llana—I think they like her more than most of us—because heck, they're little babies and they can't do gawsh! Is it nice for them? Hrr... I wonder. It sounds nice. They must have, like, no cares at all.

Well. W-Well yeah, they did lose, like, their entire families very quickly, so now they're orphans stripped of their siblings. Which probably sucks. A hecking lot. But it's... but it's not like they're the only ones. We've all, like, suffered. Gawsh... Vivi's brother's alive and dandy—well, if you can call a ditz like him so much. Man. He's crazy. And then there's hecking Tim, who I get is a problem, a really big one, but it's not like we can deny any of the, like, shining in his eyes.

It's creepy how much emotion's suddenly in him. Like, out of nowhere, pow! Then we look at ol' Killer, as Frigi herself calls him, and he's complaining about it, wants to be better, something. It's creepy—a little funny, too. Hah. Everything's funny if you look at it the right way.

Okay, I pity the guy who's got all the blood on his hands. Whatever. Hate me. I dunno. Never really had a family, since, like, legends are born from some mystical I-don't-know business. I do know that maybe Llana never knew her parents, but she was downright depressed when that Gerald guy she kept mentioning went kaput. Not sure if Zoey cares too much about them. She's got more important things to love, eh? Someone very, very important. Man, I feel bad for Zoey.

Olive's tiny hand goes splat on my head. He shakes himself out, all that green around him flapping like a cloak, and then his fur sticks to his face and he sneezes. And there's snot on me. Snot on my face, particles all over the front of my body... oh, like, great. Man I hate kids. Did I mention that before? Gawsh. I think I said they were just annoying or something. Well they kind of are.

Big, bright, innocent eyes. I check out Nayomi's night gray, Olive's murky, well, olive. Honestly.

Tiny. Always full of hecking energy—see, lookit them spin! Oh my gawsh! Why are they spinning! Like! Heck!

The big thing is that I'm stuck with them and they don't even know what I'm talking about. They have those big eyes and those big ears and those big thoughts roaming around in their heads. But they're too small. They can't break down my words and find meanings. No, they just stare at me with those big, glassy eyes, like I'm the crazy one who just watched her whole family be killed by this black-furred creep.

It's warm in here, but it's not that warm. My hands don't really feel the need to light up, though. So it's not too bad. Little eerie. Yeah. That bit of eerie like cud in the back of the head, coming back, coming back again and again. We just can't let go of it, can we? Like... we just can't let go of it. Fear and hecking worry. I mean, yeah, I'm all upset about what's going on, but it'd be bad to overload myself with the feeling, to not ever smile again. Oh gawsh, I dunno if I could handle that.

It's just... like... the thought of it. The fear of fearing it. That complicated mess. It sorta collides in my head and then dreams make even more of a hecking mess and maybe I'm gonna start slowing down soon, be all slow and awkward, but then I'll... lie down, I dunno, maybe that'll help. But I don't... nuh-uh. I don't wanna, like, sleep. It's that... simple.

A lot of things are just as easy as that to swallow. Death. Chaos. Anarchy. Hecking discord. That sense of loss, well, it's more like loss and crazy all at once. But things get that. Little baby children get that. Sure we all get love but now is not the time. Now is not the time when we're all... hecking dead.

I wonder if I can die. Call me egoistical, but I wonder. Well, like, I probably can, but it'd take more to kill me than it would for, say, Zoey. Psh, Zoey. Maybe if they kept at it for a long enough time, or it was bad enough... or something. Maybe then. I feel like Tim could kill me if he felt like it. He's done all kinds of fun things, like gawsh, what's one more body? I wonder if he has killed a legend before. I bet he has. He-Hey, just because I kinda defend him doesn't mean all the bad things didn't happen. We're just in the funniest of situations, aren't we? It kinda... makes me sad.

When I scoot away from the kids, sitting somewhere I don't have to look at them, they still follow me. It's kind of impossible to rid of them. Not that I mind that much. They're just children: they can't do anything. They won't hurt anyone. You could recruit them on whatever side you want and because they're so small and gullible they won't even think again, just listen and do as you tell them.

We're children. We're all little children. You can tell us they're the bad guys and we'll look out as they pin us down one by one. Paint some evil on their face and they'll come after us. We're helpless in the big scene. Look down on us, look at how hecking weak we are, how we just want to make our friends happy. How we just want to make someone smile, have a little land to ourselves: live. We can just survive, we don't have to thrive. We don't ask for that much...

Shame. It's a shame everyone is so deaf it takes them ages to realize someone's screaming at them. Help, right? Heck. They don't hear us. Heck if they hear us, they won't listen. I guess that's a lie, though, all the same: Quagsire listened, Vivi eventually, others too. Don't even get me started on the mess that is Kyo. They came, they listened. Friends, right? Friends are a nice thing to have. Makes the world less lonely. It's already really big, and we're really small. And friends makes it a little nicer.

What other reason is there to live? Like, seriously?

The kids stare at me as I stare at the wall. Getting everything done, aren't I. Gold star of the day. Psh.

I sigh.

"Sorry. I'm like cranky when I'm tired." Tired. "You want me to tuck you in or something? Tell you a story? I've got some pretty hecking crazy stories, I bet you'd, like, love them. Go into the weird bedding thing and I'll tell you something." Well it's not like there's yet nothing in the world.

There was this friend I had. Once upon a time. His name was E, and he was easily one of the most idiotic idiots I've met in a long hecking time. I don't know what happened to him. I haven't seen him. But I know that I miss him... and though I'm pretty sure I have an idea of who prevented him from ever seeing me again... if I ever did run into him, I think I would smile.

E for Egghead. That's what I called him. He said it was Electricity, though, like our... "relationship," if I will. He was a legend too...

E and Victini's adventures... I like F a little more, now that I have the name. E and F...

If I cut out the part where I never saw him again, I think it would make a nice story for little kids.

 _Umbre_

We're standing here like idiots, my practically standing on Espa's lilac paw, my eyes all big and glowy and maybe, just maybe burning something fierce, as that litwick takes his good look at us. No, not at me. At Espa. Her belly, that is. She's lying on the ground beside me and I'm trying my very best to not trample her with feelings of intense love. For a tiny bit of ghostly wax, that guy's really getting under my skin.

His head, he's tilted toward her stomach. Getting a better look at the markings? I don't know. It's creepy. He should stay away from Espa, she shouldn't have to be so near to him. Ulh. Maybe I'm getting a little cross with the guy... but... but he's standing so close to my lovely espeon and it's... annoying. Yeah. Annoying...

"Umbre! Stop growling, please! Deth is just checking out the spots, you know this! You don't have to stay outside, do you?"

Please don't ask such a horrible fate on me. Please no, Espa. I bite my lip and try to focus again on anything but disturbing her, my ears then flicking flat to my head. When she gives me a peculiar look, I shake my head fiercely. I can't help all this pent-up worry, oh, all this pent-up worry in me... Those marks look a lot like the one on Jen's cheek, the one that had made her, like, crazy or something, and then she nearly jumped off a cliff. If Espa jumped off a—oh! Let's not say the word. I don't wanna say the word.

"Hmmmmm..." My fur spikes up all around my neck as that guy mumbles over his findings. His black-and-white eyes, oh so creepy and unlike Espa's beauties, swap and swap in place, literally changing colors. Then changing them back. Then—ullh... say something already, you. You're making me edgy. Please don't tell me you do this on purpose. "It looks like your friend was right," he goes on muttering.

"What is it?" I squeak. I can't help it. Sorry. I really can't. If Espa's in danger... if _Espa's_ in _danger_...

He takes his time, stupid litwick, turning around and moving back to face the both of us equally. His gooey hands he stuffs behind him. There's a grim look on his face. Well, great. "It appears that the substance which was on your friend Jen has as well supplicated itself to your Espa's belly. But it's not really on her"—oh, thank the heavens—"it's upon the infant inside." Eh?

Call me awful, but I'm more concerned about my lover than the child. She's the one I love—she's the _reason_ the _thing_ is _alive_. Or is it alive just yet? I dunno. She's the reason. My love for her is the reason. Screw the kid. What's next? Toss it at me, I'm ready.

A clearing of that waxy throat of his. He never says anything directly, has to take his time. I think I'm losing my mind. "As we know by now, since your baby is coming along nicely and is projected to be born rather soon—maybe a fortnight at the latest—you were all thinking of staying until its birth. And perhaps you both staying afterword, to keep it safe. Espa, really.

"Well, I regret to inform you that if you wait that long, you'll be dead."

I don't know how my lovely reacts; I can't think. I can't—what? You said the baby. The stupid baby. Whatever. What about my beloved! What do you mean: she's gonna die? Why would she die? S-Screw you! Screw you! Well, no, wait. His lips. They're moving. Again. He's talking faster. Maybe if I calm myself I can figure out what exactly he means... maybe he was saying hypothetically, or that if we don't take any extra precautions... He's a creepy litwick; creepy litwicks probably tell you the trouble before the cure, so they can scare first.

"...f this were to happen, then yes, Espa, you'll be dead."

"What? Sorry, I missed it."

Espa squeaks, but keeps it muffled. Her gaze flashes toward me and I think I blush some.

He smirks. "Let's say that everything were to go as we think it's supposed to. Right? We all stay here and wait for Espa's baby to be born. Everything as planned. Now, if this were to happen—the baby being born—then Espa dies."

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

She flinches, she squeaks, but she doesn't give any other sort of look. Espa? Do you feel ill at all? Aren't you upset that if the thing comes out you'll be killed? Don't you... don't you care?

"I'm talking about the mixture in Espa's belly." That dratted old litwick's nose twitches—if that stump near his mouth is to be called one. "It's managed, somehow, after her brush with death and most-likely a 'scary, goopy creature,' these being Quagsire's words and not mine, to meld from her belly and into the creature inside of Espa's belly. As it is a parasite of sorts, it usually hangs around on the skin, like seen with Jen... but it looks like it's sucked into her body, or something? Eh?

He blinks. "Oh, the parasite would be expelled after the birth and left to eat away at your mate's corpse if the baby is to be born, as it would be left behind... but so long as it's there, it's there. The only way you're saving her is if you kill the baby first." It's a smirk, but it's a sad smirk...

I feel a little sick, but of course I'm not letting my beloved die from this. Maybe it's a bad idea to listen to somebody who we only know as one of Quagsire's weird friends, but if it must be so, then yes, sure, the baby can go, can't it? I need Espa here. I'm not raising some kid who killed her mom on the way out. I don't care if it's my kid. I want Espa. I need Espa... I... Espa...

When I glance back at her, the just looks at me, eyes so blank. So... clueless. Head cocked. "Yes, what is the big deal? I die, the baby is born, no such problem, yes? Umbre, what is with that face? It's rather simple."

Oh my god. Espa. What, do you want to die? Do you... do you want to... do you want to _leave me_? Did I... did I... if we're mates, did I misunderstand somewhere? I'm staring incredulously, eyes glassy and practically falling out of my face, at the girl I've loved with all my heart, all my life. Who I've been with as close as always gets. Who I can't dream of staying without, especially with such a rea—ARE YOU KIDDING ME? ESPA? ESPA!

Here I am, staring at her, mouth slightly agape, ready to tell her the words: _No, dear, silly. It's simple. We rid of the baby, you stay here with me._ But she's just staring, clueless to why I would think... I would think otherwise to _her_ plan. Let me... let me try to ask her something first. I'm, um... I'm overwhelmed. Very overwhelmed.

"Do you really want to die giving birth to this thing? It will... it will kill you, darling! My love, my sweet Espa, it will _kill_ you! Won't you miss Vivi? You and she have come to be dear friends, I've seen. Won't you miss Zoey? Uh... F. F! Oh, come on, F will miss you, you know these things!"

 _Won't you miss me?_

"Umbre." She's gone monotonous on me. The love of my life has gone monotonous on me. What's happening? "Umbre, it's simple. I've already told you. I'll have the baby. Take good care of Iuniper, okay? She will be expelled from my body, leaving the virus here. I will die. You will take good care of our daughter."

How badly I want to scream at her.

NO, I WON'T!

Not even in my worst nightmares would I think of yelling at the very top of my lungs at my darling, precious gem of a girl. Now here I am. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to pick her up and hug her so tightly. I want to kill that stupid child. Oh, god, I'm a monster, aren't I? I want to kill my own child.

But Espa's so... she hardly reacted. She was miffed at me, not... not...

Slowly the litwick leads me from the chamber, closes the door, and we stand out in the stone hallway to chat. Every syllable I toss at him is louder than it needs to be, and rocks against the walls. He waits, then, waits for me to calm down some, for my head to at least begin adapting to this idea. Whatever this idea is. I never understood why these situations made people wish for it to be a dream... but now... oh... I just want to wake up... I can't believe myself...

"Hey, umbreon. I know you're freaking out. I mean. I'm sure everyone living here knows by now. But," and then he is softer, much softer than I can remember ever being, "Espa... Espa is in... a dire situation."

I wish I was the girl. I'd kill that child gladly. Myself. I don't even know how that works, but I would.

"Really, the only one who should be allowed to choose is you.

Deep breath.

"Did you notice anything weird about her? Wait, what am I talking about. You're an umbreon, and your face was redder than that pansear bloke's. Yes. You did notice something peculiar." His eyes glint: dark like her belly, then blue, a very peculiar shade of cerulean. I swear I've seen it somewhere. How can his eyes even do that? What is he, a fortune teller? I try to breathe. No use getting even more worked up than I already am.

He sighs. I don't think he can go any softer. "She's most certainly not in her right mind." But he's trying. "Just... oh, take your choice already and make it quick. Painless, too, if you can. No matter what happens, it's gonna be a big mess. Oh, a big mess...

"Just take your choice, umbreon. She's not gonna make any good one, so choose the right one while there's still time already."

Sighing again, he makes his walk off. He just leaves me there with perfect access to the chamber in front of me. Perfect access to Espa. To... to her belly. Her blackened, stained belly that's holding a demon. Demon, yes, demon. I don't even care anymore. Oh my god, I thought I didn't care about my own wants... what am I? Am I the demon? Am I... Am I a monster? Oh, god... Espa, where did you go?

Awkwardly I peek through the window hole, and her feverish face flecks across the room before falling by her side again.

Espa... Espa... my darling... oh, my love...

I wait until night falls. It's hard to tell without any windows around here, so I sort of yell at Deth often to go check outside—really outside—for me. I think he's a little fed up with me, but he doesn't stop, either. So. Then it is dark, and I peek in and she is very much asleep, languid body stretched across the cold floor instead of moving for the bedding. My heart is screaming inside of my chest and I can't get it to shut up.

Slowly I creep in. My black, black, black fur puffs against the new chill. My gaze, red and stricken, crosses the stones with ease, until resting by her beautiful face. Her forehead burns when I place a paw by it. She feels so frail... like if I touched her the wrong way, she would snap. I've never seen Espa snap. She's not been strong, say, but she's never gone to that solution. She'll defend herself, and then she'll fall to her feet and give in. She doesn't snap. She never snaps. She's told me before that she doesn't want to.

Espa's... never been good at taking care of herself, has she? I-It's a good thing I've been there, then. If she was alone, she'd be such a wreck. A-And she wouldn't even care! No, darling! You're so beautiful... don't do that to yourself. How many times have I told her to pace herself? Oh, Espa... I suppose it's another reason why I love you, but look at you...

You try to defend yourself, but then you submit. Espa... oh, Espa... What's wrong? Sweetheart, where does it hurt? Tell me and I'll kiss it and make it better... I-I'll try my best for you. Anything for you, darling. Anything, oh, anything for you.

"My love, please listen," I whisper to her very much sleeping body, "we don't even know her. You don't... you're not acting right. I-I swear. There's something wrong. You never tell me when you're not feeling well, not unless I notice first... you always keep secrets about just how well you feel. Espa..."

Softly I touch my nose to her forehead. "You don't deserve that, Espa."

No, and no she doesn't. I wish she could see that. Sweet Espa... I plant my lips upon her forehead before nuzzling her and moving back a bit. My eyes catch sight of her stomach... her belly... her black-splattered belly... and my heartbeat slams through my body.

I, um... well... umbreon have pores, like anyone else. And, see, they can secrete toxins. That is. From their pores. And... I am a dark pokemon. I can... manipulate these shadows of mine... and with them... I can pull toxins—not into Espa—no no no no no—but... the thing inside of her. Surely. It'd take a bit of work... and I'd have to be incredibly careful, but...

Okay, okay... easy does it... focus... slowly, slowly... pull... place...  
 _tmp, tmp, tmp—_ why is someone walking so clo—  
ah! Ah! Oh, god, no no no—don't do that—no no, Espa, oh, god, no no no... no...

And then I did _not_ poor poison all over her lovely tail. Gah, I'm so stupid. Okay. Moving on. She's okay, she's okay.

I really don't want to get up and walk away once I'm sure the stupid baby was hit by such a dose... it must be dying, if not dead, already... oh... oh, it's sinking in... I feel guilty.. I feel awful... I killed... I killed a creature that was created by our love—I'm sure there's a horrible metaphor mixed in there somewhere.

But then I look back to her beautiful face.

And I don't care. Oh, Espa. Darling... I don't care... You're okay, and that's what matters...

I do feel awful... it was a horrible thing to do... but she's okay now...

Really, the question that's been going on in my head... would I rather lose the child or the one I've loved for so long? I have to choose. I have the choice. If I do... I-I mean...

Espa...

Oh, I can't stop these tears now... but you're out of harm's way, now... you're safe... I don't care if I die tomorrow... you're okay, you're okay... oh, Espa...

I sink to the ground right beside her and just sob.

 **;w; Umbre! Eheh. But I mean... What would you rather?**

 **Well either way I mean I don't have to answer that question**

 **F: Oh, the life of being mateless and childless...**

 **Me: ewe**


	15. Doesn't Hit

Chapter 15: ...Doesn't Hit

"Hmmm... You sure you're okay with going, mmhm? If you don't want to, someone else can always go for you instead, mm... Vivi might need to take you-know-who for a walk anyways... and then some of the others can go. Hmm—I mmmmean, you guys don't have to be the ones if you don't want to. Just askin'! Mmh!" Cheerfully Quagsire grins. His floppy blue hands he holds out toward us, waving.

"Um..." I blink. "I wouldn't mind going... we have been in here for quite some time now... a-and a change of atmosphere would be welcome."

Zoey pokes me, squeaking, "Heeeey! It's not just about the delicious air, Llana!" I blush. "You know Quagsire wants us to do a little lookout check anyways. Juuuuust to be sure everything's okay, yeah? We have been in here for awhile... and, uh... who knows?" She tosses her hands aside her, shrugging with her tongue sticking out.

Ember snorts. "Idiots." He shakes his head.

"It would be nice to... to, um, go outside," Cheeka mumbles, head toward the ground, "be-because it's so... confined in here... U-U-Uuum! Thank you! For the opportunity, tha-that is..."

And again Quagsire's beady orbs shine. "I think your group should be okay out there... hmm, well I think it'll be so. And if not... you're still all plenty strong. Mmmh. I'd say you're mmmore than safe." Another smile; a strong nod. "Yeah..."

"Why do we need to go outside again?" My best friend rubs at her cheeks, glancing warily at the pansear beside her. "I get that we haven't been out and all... but still! Like, what's the point? Aren't there windows or stuff we can look through at least?" Her eyes encircle the quagsire, then, innocent and bright, a much brighter blue than his floppy self.

His eyes shine. "Sommmme things need to be done, Zoey."

"Ehh? Um... okay?"

Because he's Quagsire, we sort of leave him like that. Well... I try to. Ember and Cheeka obviously don't care; Zoey yanks me back, stands her ground, and tries her best to glare into our leader's glittering gaze. "Come onnnnnnnnn! I thought you liked meeeeee!"

"Mmmmore than others." Snort. Somehow I get the feeling they're referring to Tim—although, usually, between them and their strange mind games, they are.

"Come on, Quagsiiiiiiire! Pleeeaaaaaaaaaase!"

"Hmmm... I guess it's not a secret or anything. I just... need to get sommmme out you out of mmmy face right now." His eyes... while they aren't dull and hard and without empathy, there is a bit of annoyance flecked and distorted within them. "It's a bit of a situation upstairs with Espa..." He lets out a great puff of a breath.

"Oh. Um. Sorry." Blushing, she pulls me back. My head snaps toward the quagsire again before we leave, and he offers a small wave, a small grin, before the drawbridge carries us away. There's almost what might be guilt tracing his features... it worries me... why guilt, of all things? Why guilt..?

Zoey pulls at me, more gently this time, as the wood underfoot brushes off into twigs, dirt, grass. It's all springy and very alive, almost burning to the touch with a warmth called life. Much more colorful and much more welcoming than a stony castle shrouded in purple mist. When I do turn back and I do glimpse that place again... so dark and cold... I shudder a little. It's n-nice and all, that Deth offered for us, but... sorry. I don't like it very much. It's almost like there's something otherworldly with that castle. How old is it, anyways? Made with an ancient material and standing so tall at such an old age...

We catch up to the pans, red and blue surrounding us and my light green so betwixt. Zoey scoots toward the pansear who nigh hisses at her with spite. Where her white hand touched his pale, now a wet spot lies. He moves around his Cheeka, who does smile and accept he oshawott, and such is better. I guess. Ember's glares aren't helping matters.

"Aaaah! It's so nice out here! We should all _skip_ together! Yes! We should link arms and just, like, skip through the fields of... dead bodies!" She giggles, squeaks, "Well, we're all outta flowers, gotta improvise, right? It's not that bad. You guys don't have siblings or parents to worry about, nor does Llana, and my family lives so far away as it is." She shrugs.

Ember shakes his head, eyes flashing. "That doesn't make it any less disgusting. Dammit, Zoey," he mutters. His pale lips he purses together, turned away from the oshawott and as close to Cheeka while being far from Zoey as he can manage. It must be a bit of a confusing tumble for him, poor Ember. It is silly... all of them...

Quietly the oshawott giggles again. "Yeah, but... that doesn't mean you have to say naughty words every time you mention my name! Meanie Emby! Be more considerate, pleaaaaaaaase!"

Like a waterfall, their words fly. Droplets of cold, shocking comebacks threaten one another through the throttling onslaught, and after these come laughter from one, glares from another. It's difference and yet similarity, play by play. Mutual survival. With one up, the other won't fail now. Silly of them. Out of all of us, I'd say to feel a little worse for the wear with Cheeka the most, but it always makes her smile. She looks so frail... yet she's very different from just that.

There's nothing wrong with differences. No. They're almost like a celebration each time, something happy to accommodate living today. If we were all the same, similar, the like, it would be stifling and useless... but with differences... it's almost like each one has its own flavor.

"Hahahahaha! Emby, Emby, sitting in a tree! He falls off and breaks his knee~ But that's okay, cuz he's real lame; uhhh... next-time-won't-you-sing-with-me~!"

"FUCK OFF, ZOEY! DAMMIT!"

Some flavors hurt a little to look at.

But that doesn't make them any less precious...

I-It makes me happy to know that we're all here together...

Strangely, it feels so warm outside. Maybe it is because of living with a ghost for a small catch of time now, in his castle that is still quite chilly, especially on the ground floor where the drawbridge is... but the sun on my scales... it just... it feels truly wonderful. It just... it just does. Oh, it just does. I wonder if there is a situational influence...

Still. The fields, the trees, the bushels, while torn and blackened and bleeding—they're still hopeful. And the sun, albeit hidden behind all kinds of smog in the air, it still hits us warm and righteously. Bits of unconquerable grass masquerade along the dance floor of the broken, and the air of the dead has never been so... so fresh. It is nice to be outside again. The pumping of the heart... the lightness outside—well, lighter than the castle even so.

Is this what hope looks like now? We're like specks of hopeless little light particles sailing in the wind, mixed in with the pollution, hope hidden in coal. Gritty fingers peck us out, like they're searching for and ridding the world of us. Those fingers aren't anyone's I think I know. At times they were Tim's, but now... maybe a lot of different hands have played roles in our precarious future. When one looks into ashes and sees a beautiful city, are they crazy or creative? Or are those the same now?

Ember's pressed himself further ahead, arms out and swatting against a breeze he can't control. "Hrrrm... Ulh, it tastes awful here. What the hell is it we're doing, exactly? Scouting out? Checking out for... for what? We all know what a mess it is out here." Snort. "I don't get it."

"Well, if the psychic is confused, may we all be screwed for eternity!"

"ZOEY NOT NOW."

She quietly puffs up her cheeks beside me. Perhaps because she knows I won't reject her, she pushes against me and glares back at the pansear like he's made up of rubbish. "Emby, there's always the time for dumb jokes! If there's anyone who should know that, it's me. And I think you haven't heard anything funny enough for your freakin' stony soul in so long your ears are _rotting_. Hmn." She pouts, eyes narrow.

"I say not now and she won't listen." Snort. "Well I suppose I should know better by now. You don't. You don't listen, do you? This is a very serious moment, that like all other moments prior, could be our last. And to keep it from being our last, we have to stay vigilant. Watchful. Quiet, dammit, or we could miss the sound of something very, very important." He emphasizes here, mouthing his words as he talks, eyes wide and bulging somewhat. Upset with her peculiarities.

"Ember!" she squeaks, now she's the one haughty. "Ember! If we're being all slow and boring the entire time, then what the heck is the point of still being alive in the first place? You like... don't loosen up! At all! And if you don't, then you're just... just! If you're this uptight all the time, and you never loosen, what's the point of _anything_?" She tosses her hands like firecrackers in the air and screams at him.

Betwixt their bursts there is a rustling. I swallow.

Quiet; then, "That doesn't make any sense. Point of being alive? What's the point of being alive if you're dead! Zoey, you might as well be dead right now! _Tim himself_ may as well have _slit your throat wide open_ ," he sneers, "like a smile," grunt, "a filthy, red smile dribbling with your blood as you slowly, slowly die."

Cheeka, whining, pushes against him. "Ember! That's... y-you're going a little far, don't you think!" Lines of worry crease upon her forehead. Stifling, she sniffles.

Betwixt those sounds there is a rustling. Release. I try my best to breathe.

"Well? You... you think so, EMBY?" Zoey shrieks, then. I'm afraid. "THEN YOU MIGHT AS WELL BE DEAD, TOO!" I'm scared. Oh, I'm scared. Everything is so _loud_ , I'm scared, I'm scared. I am so scared. "YOUR DEAR CHEEKA HERE COULD EXPLODE AND KILL ALL OF US—ALL OF US—RIGHT NOW!"

Breaths. Breaths.

Cheeka squeals. "Zo-Zoey... Zoey!" Bright color explodes across her cheeks. Just like her psychic energy.

And even still there is a rustling.

Scared. Scared. Oh, very scared. The energy is too much for me; I feel like I'll explode, we'll all explode, one great cake expunged of sweetness and the joy of the little candles; our batter of red, red blood and organs splattered about the place. My head I shove into my hands; then I flip and toss my fingers, my tiny fingers, against the ensuing measures. Sparkling pink eyes, then one pair of blue, one single pair, stare at my fallen, shaky self. Oh, no, am I crying?

Frozen. I don't move. My heart is pounding, and so is my head. My legs are shaking, and so are my lips. I can't speak. I can't even think of speaking. "Please." The words are almost coming on their own. I hardly recognize my own wavy, cracking voice. Oh, what happened today? I'm so scared. "Please. Please stop... please... stop..."

Before I know it, I'm curling in on myself. I can't contain all this black language. It's not... it's not in my blood. Not in my system. I just—I just can't. W-We all know I repel these kinds of things and it can't hurt me. But now I'm surrounded in it, I'm drowning in it, and I can't see them. I can't... their faces are contorted in these terrifying masks that look like their faces, but it's not their faces. No, no, no, that's not them in front. Inside... inside they're still okay. I think. Yes? I don't know. I really, really don't. Which is scary, so very scary. I'm cold, too. Oh, my gosh, I'm cold.

"Ehh!" Zoey blinks frustratingly. Her face and its angry lines mesh at the edges. A blue, swamp-like guilt tugs and massages at her, pulls and thrusts at her. I'm... I'm breathing. I'm not insane, I'm breathing. I don't actually need to breathe, but I am. I-It's okay. A-All good. What am I saying? They were attacking at each other, and then they pulled Cheeka into it, and I didn't even know what to... ehhh... Scary. Scary.

Ember's hands go over his face. He's pulling at his mask. That's a mask, right? His face went so red. The lines were so jagged, dipped in valleys of black. Like writing. Writing on his face. "Sorry, Llana. Oh... I am sorry. That was... a bit much." His head falls right and left. Fiercely. "That was a lot much, what am I saying? I don't know what came over me... g-ghh, I'm sorry, Llana." There is sincerity—I can see that much. Only everything is hard to look at now... like prior. It's like there's a weight. Oh, such a weight.

Kind of like drowning in a stream...

Keeping my head up is hard, but if I don't keep my head up I will drown. And they don't want me to drown. I look into their eyes, shining brightly like gemstones cracked into their faceless monsters of masks, and I know. The sincerity is so strong it hurts to see. And I believe them. Of course I believe them: they believe me.

They're all okay now. It's okay now. Betwixt heavy breathing and red cheeks, Zoey shakes her head and Ember bites his lip and Cheeka gives a sigh, and it's okay now. My heart's pounding begins to recede, begins to fade into the depths of my head. Slowly the oshawott steps toward the pans and extends a fluffy white hand; there are traces of disgust in Ember's face as he lifts his own pale one, awkwardly entwines his fingers with hers and shakes.

"Umm... do you feel any better?" Cheeka whispers. The flameheaded boy beside her slowly nods. Big breath, rigid release. Empty.

Zoey chews at her fidgeting lip. "I'm sorry, Ember. I'll try not to get so loud and awkward like that..."

"No—" He grunts, winces. "I'm... sorry. I'm sorry that... I yelled at you. I get that you're more... lighthearted and thoughtless—er—careless... uhg..."

Giggle. "Carefree?"

"Yeah. That. Ulh. Carefree. You're more lighthearted and carefree than I am when it comes to things and I'm—I'm sorry I got mad at you about it. I don't... want you to die, Zoey. That would be really... fucking bad." Ember's cheeks puff with air; his face has creased of lines.

Smile. "Apology accepted! And... I don't want you to die, either. I don't want us all to... or Cheeka, for her to... well. You know. That'd be real freaking bad, right?" She giggles then, eyes expectantly watching the pansear who does not giggle in turn. He snorts; she smirks; I sigh.

And then the rustling returns again—and it was always there—only then I was loud—and now—and now—and _now—_! Someone screams, I don't know who, I fall back onto my rump as the grass around us erupts into fiery hisses and the bushes tremble with power. Mighty power threads through them like the string of relief that held me which now snaps about us. Cheeka's pale blue body sails past me and then there is black, black like a stain black, and it claws across the ground behind her. It's like an arm. A great arm. Bruised and bubbling, nasty... a crumpled up scab oozing along its veins.

Zoey's shoved by me, we're swung into the bushes, flame, bright flame bursting into our faces and going by without hitting us. Damp pink eyes behind it. Dull and useless and angry, angry, hot red flaming angry. A growl and a dash, far away from our little bush that I then slump into without word, Zoey pushing against the bush for some reason I have not the brain to think about right now. It hurts. It's spiny. I don't think it sees us. I think it's leaving.

 _Boosh._

I think it has Cheeka. Oh, no, no, I think it has Cheeka. Pink rippling in the air like ribbons, heavy and light and flaming and ice and whipping the sky in loathe, I think it has Cheeka. There are dots in my eyes that spin and make it hard to see, oh, but I think it has Cheeka. Blue hair crumpled, a great, slobbery thumb buckled over her head, pressing into her skull. It has her, it has her. The voices in my head chant. Oh, it has her. I want to run toward it but it's like I can't move.

 _BRRRRRRRHHHHHHH!_

And it's like the thumb pressed a button and Cheeka exploded. Pink. It's pink. I can't see anything, my head is screaming, my arms shake and hurt, Zoey, I don't know where Zoey is, let alone anyone, this is bad... this is bad...  
was it safe in the bush..? Ember... Ember, where did Ember go..? What did Ember do..? Everything hurts... everything hurts...

 _Ember_

Fire was compressed through my muscles as I ran, and fire contained me when I pushed them out of the way and toward the monster, the serpent of a monster like a hand with _her_ in its fingers, its icky sticking-together fingers. She was compressed, but she was not contained. No. Oh no. The sky lit with her uncontrollable power, unquenchable even with black tar-like goo traveling across the curves in her body. I'm mad now. I'm very mad. You can't touch her. No, no one can. Not like... not like...

But fire's not good enough. Fire doesn't burn in the blackness. It wouldn't burn Jen's mark off and it wouldn't touch Espa's stomach, and I know that I can't save Cheeka with _fucking fire_. I wish I had Llana but she's over where it's safe... safer. The throbbing psychic waves, while they surround me, they can't fully get into me... no... because I'm like her, so I'll last at least some time longer. And that thing... I don't know what it is, but...

 _Urrrhh!_

Stuffed between thumb and forefinger. First thrashing, then, wait. Slow. Steady. Pull back at one finger, pull at it, pull with all your weight and all your might, and then pull with even more than that... and it'll begin to snap off, begin to fade away. It's a slow fade, when you give yourself away, but it's better than... my gaze goes to Cheeka and I grit my teeth, pull at more damn fingers. As they snap and tear apart, she stays curled up in the middle. I tug at one of her loose hands. She glances toward me; her curls are flung all about her, but I begin to try and take her even with all that energy pulling dangerously around me. Because I have to. I have to, there's no other way.

It's like an ocean. An ocean at night in a storm. Sloughing waves to slay me, frenzied waves to flay me, and all kinds of thoughts within. Fear, chaos, anarchy, tension. Her body's pressed against mine, hers a mess of tar-like evil and mine humming with her power of chaos as that hand comes back around, mending itself in again and again. I try to rise up with it but I'm so numb. I can hardly think. Cheeka. Oh, I think of her. Yes. Save her. Yes. Yes... and I try to push her away from me, even as she collapses back and I push myself in front and I try to yell through the psiwaves for it to get me, kill me, tear me through and through, I don't care.

I can't even control myself by this point. My heart is splattering throughout me... I think it's tearing open... oh, the strain is so strong, ow, I can feel it pulsating through me... clots of blood rip from my lips and spray throughout the discord. I'm falling to pieces and the monster hasn't even touched me. Its tar has come off from over Cheeka, thank god, summing itself up to my toes, and now I'm stuck and I know there is no way I'll escape this. One breath.

I'm such an idiot. Zoey can't keep Llana safe. She can't keep herself safe. Tim might kill her or hurt her or scar her irrevocably. Who's gonna knit the world together if I'm not there to... to... oh, give it up already. Just let it go. It's too late now. Whatever I've done in the past isn't gonna be there for them now, won't be there later, either. It's too late now. I swallow. Tears from the psychic strain knock into my eyes.

Will I be missed? I don't know. Zoey would be missed more, if she died instead. She's playful and bubbly. I'm not... social like that. Hell. I've been a cold bitch to most everyone. Yeah... it makes me a little sad when I think of it now... I won't get to spend any more time with Cheeka—or any of them, for that matter. No one. I liked Quagsire. He's such a mystery, playing his tricks carefully and kicking his footprints as to keep the guessing going. Keep himself hidden.

I wish I talked a little more. I wish I learned a little more about the people I would one day die with, our fates so forcefully tied together it's practically choking us where we stand. I wish I asked them what their lives were like and learned their story. Maybe mine is shit, but that must make theirs only the more a wonder. I wish. Will Cheeka fulfill what I ask? Maybe... oh, god, she's gonna be mad when she learns what happened to me...

Maybe I never talked to them, but I spent so much time with her. And I don't regret anything if it means I got to have her, even if it wasn't for so long. But I'm angry too, angry at myself for not being... I-I don't know. Better. If I was better, maybe I would've lived, too. But I saved her already. And Llana, and Zoey. But I couldn't save myself. Fuck...

Is this how Elijah felt when he died? Shit—I'll-never-see-them-again? Shit—I-made-a-mistake? Shit—can-this-stop? Can-I-stop-this-from-happening? Can-I-try-again? No, dammit, no I can't. I'm almost dead where I stand.

I'll have Elijah to talk to. And Burr. And Mina. They're all where I'm going, aren't they? Will they be disappointed that it was me?

Maybe I should stop worrying so much. Yeah...

One last breath... one last breath...

Like a suffocating, sloppy wet kiss, I can feel its fingers groping upon my skull. I know I'm dying... the colors that were once in my eyes are fading... the entire world is turning white around me...

And then I hear a voice... it's a horrible, knotty little whisper knitting into the back of my head, the head I'm losing along with my body... my flesh and skin... And I hear it... it's a horrible voice... it's ugly, it's so ugly... and it's telling me ugly things...

cold...

It's describing heads hung on trees, wounds in the body, and a gentle, petal-like gentle rip like a smile of blood into one single neck...

I think the voice has a name... I think... I think I once met the owner of this voice, but only once, and only briefly... but they were a monster... and I was relieved when it was over...

Everything is so white... I can't feel myself... I've been without breathing for long enough for me to know... to know...

that it's...

 **It's funny... even before I got to the death scene, I sort of had it planned out. I sort of knew how it was going to go. Ember would like escape with Cheeka and then the explosion thing and he would somehow be talking with Llana as he died... and you wouldn't be able to tell if he or Cheeka or anyone had died... but then this happened. Although I think it captures what I wanted more.**

 **Did you like Ember? X3 I know that... he was kinda mean at times... but he's one of my favorites...**

 **I'm sad that I killed him... but it's what happened in the end...**

 **Honestly I've been sad about few deaths in this story. Like seriously do-I-REALLY-have-to? sad about the deaths. Burr and Mina I was sobbing the entire time as I wrote it out... but... but Ember's currently the only other one I've... dreaded.**

 **But there's some upcoming deaths (o noes!) that I'm sure will make me hate this story or something... save the best for last? Ahahaha...**


	16. Swallowed and Digested

Chapter 16: Swallowed and Digested

 _Umbre_

"Anyways... oh, dear, Bay, please don't give me such a sad stare. As I was saying, I guess she hates me now, but... but she's alive, and that's all I could possibly care about is she didn't die giving birth to that stupid demon." Maybe she thought it was the wrong choice, but... I couldn't bear to lose her. Maybe the child _was_ inside of her and she said it was supposed to be _her_ decision but, but... I can't. I can't take that. I just can't.

The dunsparce in question bobs his head beside me. The cold palace tiles beneath our feet press in on us and hush, like they're hanging onto our every word. "But Umbre, if she hates you, then that's... what! How can _Espa_ hate _Umbre_? You've known each other for so long and you're all you've had and then she... she just... you guys..."

I blush and glare at our conglomerated shadows. "Yes, yes. I'm just not going to worry about it. We'll see where it goes."

"What? Why! Not worry about it! About... about the love of your life!"

"Aaah..." It is a little more complicated than that, but yes, there's the blunt way to say it. "My... dear friend. As much as I love her, she isn't happy with my existence as of now. Hates me. Distrusts me. Right now, she can't see much else than that. I don't want to put pressure on her..." I'm worried, so very worried about her. A combee hive of anxiety has kitted itself into my stomach and it hurts! It stings! I'm constantly on the brink of tears! Honestly. It's such an easy feat to want and then to give up.

But that's no good. Oh how I so love Espa, my sweet Espa; her lilac orbs reign over me, and right now this is in hate. Every time I look at her I prick my paw on the thorns beneath the rose, but I cannot stop, no: I will suffer fields and fields of these thorns if only to find her at the end.

It's one of those things. We've had others call us crazy, when we first traveled together, when we were but little brown eevee cubs. They couldn't wrap their minds around our predicament. But that's okay; it only gave me more time with her alone. And I've spent so much with her. To let go would be... to release would be... I-I can't. My limbs would tear off if I stopped holding on.

But I can't think about it so much. If I do, I...

Urgh. I shake my head, try to smile all stupidly jolly at the yellow sunshine with me. We continue our idle stroll. "Just be careful, Umbre. I worry! The both of you are very sweet, you know. I don't know what I'd do with myself if a relationship as strong as _you_ fell apart..!"

His smile is so sad.

I don't know if I've ever seen someone like Bay look so crestfallen, himself melting like wax in the overbearing sunshine. Soon to be gone forever.

It's only understandable that he's under a lot of strain too, I guess. I mean we all are. Espa, Vivi, F, Jen... all of us really. Wait. Oh god. Excuse my sudden change of thought, but wasn't Ember around here somewhere—at some point? "Bay, do you know where the others went? I swear Quagsire said something about some scouting mission, but for the life of me..." I've been thinking most about not thinking about Espa. I have about no room for anything else. It's hurting me. It's _hurting_. My heart... oh my heart.

But don't think about it. Oh no you don't.

"Um? I..." That jolly tone of his, all fluttery and joyful, takes a hit, halts. "Where were they again? Oh, oh yes, you said scouting mission. I think Quagsire got Zoey and... Ember and Cheeka—and Llana too, I think they went on some scouting thing. So we're leaving soon, eh?" I think we're all ready to get out of here. Nice of the Deth guy to offer us space and ultimately scare me to my core and all that, but if we wanted to stay cooped up, we could've continued on in Post Town. Mary's still there. Though I think it's just her. Aw. Poor gal.

If we stayed, would Iuniper still lose her life like she did? Would Espa... Espa...

Her pearly lilac orbs graze me in my head and I can't swallow. Oh, don't think about it, don't!

I sigh. "Mmh? That so? I swear I never know these things. How do you keep on top of it, Bay?"

"Psh... it's not all that hard you know! It helps when you continually follow and pester Quagsire, I admit, but just ask around more. Get your head out of Espa's fur and maybe you'll see..." He winces, mumbles, "Dear goodness, sorry, that was an awful time to make such a joke." His head tilts back.

"Naw... it's fine. I'll figure it out," I murmur. How I hope, so hope so hopelessly, for her. For my Espa. She of peachy lilac fur and the slimmer of a grin she's shy to show but so easy to make laugh... I do think about her often, don't I? Haven't gotten much out of our little group. As much as we are friends with the others... I mean. She's Espa. I can't help myself...

Still the dunsparce really isn't sure. Man, what's with the hard time? "Umbre, come on, that was a pretty low blow."

I shake my head. "No. Seriously. Don't worry about it so much." I glare at the tiles beneath us again, us traveling over their cracked and gently-eroded surfaces. It hurts my paws a bit when I think about it. Oof, yeah, it does. It's a rough little stroll and all those tiny chinks are butting in through my padded armor. Funny, didn't notice it even the slightest til now, and I don't think Espa's mentioned it either.

"Hmmn..."

Snort. "Bay?"

"Oh, it's just... your face keeps going all distant, and it's a little upsetting to see. So then I kind of get upset, because looking at the great Umbre himself getting upset is such a... strange face." Uh? I blink a little stubbornly. "Like... even as we went through the hardest things, like... remember the Great Glacier? Psh, remember Mystery Dungeons in any way? You'd always make some bad joke and run at Espa... and it generated a warm feeling in the group.

"And now that I think about it... do you remember when we first met you? Unconscious. You were just passed out like some stray in the middle of the road to Post Town..." Bay pauses, somber.

Oh, yes. I recall this part very well. "When I woke, my first word you heard me say was 'Espa,' wasn't it? Well, maybe it was 'where,' but either way it was in the context of she, eh? Yes. But I did look like a stray, didn't I? Big dummy umbreon stumbled into the square into the middle of the night and gave an unruly fall, smack in the soil. Man I was filthy."

"Ehhh... you're drawing away from what I was trying to show you."

"Oh, I am? Sorry, what was it?" Now I'm a little curious. But nervous. Espa.

The dunsparce glances out a nearby window and sucks in a breath. "Well. At the time, you certainly didn't act like yourself. I mean, when we first met, I'm sure we all thought you were a catastrophic loon with a loud voice, but even as we got to know you, you were a serious and focused thinker, and you didn't take the time to answer anything unless it had to do with a certain missing espeon."

Now I'm just embarrassed. "I-I have a slight flaw they call a loyalty issue. I'm too strong in the aspect. Cut off Espa and I might as well be dead." Because that helps. Yeah. Totally. The blush will stop crawling all over my face.

"No, no! I'm saying that the both of you must share a true bond, if you can only be yourself when you're actually with her. You guys must be the ultimate duo! Think about it!" Stupid Bay; I can't think; I'm embarrassed.

"Y-Yeaaaah, I guess we might share something of a connecti—"

"No no no! Oh come on, Umbre!" Goodness, since when has Bay been so vigorous? "If you share such this connection, then you... you should be spending as much time together as you have been..! I like the Umbre who's comfy and happy in his place more than this gloomy creep of a replacement! If you know what it's like to share such a bond, then keep it and keep them as much as you possibly can!" And then he's blushing too—only I think they call it _livid_.

Oh. Once upon a time... Bay had a family. He wasn't born from them, no, but he grew up with them. He had a friend in that family near his age—a best friend—a brother of sorts, what have you. Now they're all dead but for the baby sister.

It's no wonder.

Gently I take a couple steps back. My eyes fall back to the earth. "Auh... I'm sorry, Bay. I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers or anything." I get it. I hear what he's telling me: loud and clear I hear it. "I get what you mean, I'm listening." It's just... "I'll do my best, okay?" Every time I think of her... "My very best." A pain like no other splinters my heart, cripples my soul.

I don't want to talk about it. It hurts, okay? It really, really hurts. I feel like a monster of sorts. Like, how can something hurt this much? What did I do to deserve this, right? Isn't that what everyone thinks? Well. Maybe no one deserves that pain, but it's out there, and it's gonna get everyone eventually. Gonna trip us all up and then everyone will be crying on their faces. That's not... that's no good thought there. Oh, Espa...

Wince. Espa, Espa, Espa...

 _Killed it, you killed it? What are you—what does that—killed the baby. Killed it! I was going to die and you get it done like that while I'm asleep now don't you! What are you! You're horrible! You won't listen! Disrespect me! You must hate me! Don't you_ hate _me, Umbre?!_

And then it all comes crashing down on me. I can't hardly breathe. My heart is beating. My great ruby eyes cut over the stones and it's all I hear, that screech of hers, that hiss of hers, she batting at my face and yelling at me _leave, leave, leave_. Monster. Am I a monster? Did my choice make me a monster? I had it in my hands. I could... I could stop this. But ending it only... Espa. Did I hurt her? I... I don't know..! She won't listen to me. She won't talk to me. She won't look at me.

A great stream of seething hate and now she's all but closed up to me.

I think I'm scared. I think _I'm_ hurt.

My heart. My heart hurts. It's pounding in my chest sporadically. It hurts... it hurts so much...

Espa... please listen when I speak to you. Please... open up your ears and hear me; open up your eyes and please see me. I-I'll understand, I-I suppose, if you do these things and still use those hard, hard words, words that I admittedly never even dreamed of you calling me. I feel so useless after hearing them, playing them in my head again and again and again. If I mean less than dirt to the one I care of most, what does that make me? What have I done? I just wanted you happy... _alive_ and _happy_... Espa.

Why does it have to hurt so very much every time I call out your name? Just in my head, when it bounces all around, the little pangs embed themselves into my flesh and burn me. And I can't take this. I really can't. Oh, god, I can't.

"Ehh?" Bay's off-key squeak catches me by the side of the head, slaps me into the stony corridor again. The floor burns coldly through my pads; the windows show just as grim a landscape we will soon dive back into. "Umbre? Oh, dear, Umbre! Are you okay? You got so quiet for a moment there.. I mean, you've been subdued and all that, but you got... so quiet! Your eyes and everything—you looked so dark and... and gloomy." He shudders.

Looking back, I murmur, "It's just not the easiest thing to think about. I... I mean. Imagine if... er. Excuse my poking hard words at you, but imagine, if you will... your own closest one. Elijah, right? Your best friend. Elijah. Imagine that instead of his death... there was he and, I don't know, Llana, or maybe his younger sister. And they're hanging off of the edge of other sides of the same cliff. And you can only save one of them. I... I mean. It's not even a choice by that point, is it? Everyone knows what you're going to do.

He's silent. Staring at me through muted eyes. I feel very... nervous. "But after saving Elijah, he tells you out of nowhere that it was all your fault. That you made the wrong decision. You're worthless, you're evil— _do you_ hate _him, is_ that _why you did this_?" Oh I can feel an awful grin slide along my lips. "You must hate him." That tiny laugh... oh, my ears. "There is no other explanation for the scum you've become." My heart aches, it aches so badly. "Isn't that right... E-Espa..?"

And before I know it I've slammed into the earth. And I'm shaking—I'm horribly shaking. I don't even know what it is I'm scared of anymore: just that it's everywhere and it's all-consuming and there is no escape for a ditz like me. I I I... I _love_ Espa. Whatever happened? Whatever happened to her?—to me?—to us?

"Is it all my fault?" I whisper, frantic, "did I do something so bad that now she'll never forgive me and I'm all but a complete monster in her eyes? And... _Am I_?" A shudder squeezes past my mouth. " _Am I a complete monster_?"

Bay watches this all and the emotion dribbles through his eyes again, goes _plip plip_ against the ground from where he's shrunken to the earth, just sitting there.

"Oh... Oh my gosh, Umbre... I'm so sorry..."

But there's nothing you can say to heal something like that. Only she can come back and tell me otherwise, but she's avoiding me, she's hating me. She hates me. I love her; she hates me. Hates. The word scorches my mind, my body, my poor heart when I relive that moment again and again, because it's all I've seen of her in days, and I can't take this.

A monster... I know a monster... don't I? We do. We all do. N-No—I'm not talking about me. He has black fur too... but he's different. In all honesty he _is_ a monster. He's the one that killed Elijah and his family and all but the little girl. He killed most everyone we've lost and scarred Kyo indefinitely. Oh, dear.

Oh no.

Oh no. I understand his feelings now. I understand what's going on in his head now, now don't I? In some way, perhaps small, maybe I do. Espa's words come back at me like glass in my face and I gently try to work myself back onto my feet, glancing back at my poor dunsparce friend. "Sorry Bay. Are you okay?"

I don't think he has it in him to say much else. He tries for a nod and does raise himself with me, but he's gone mute. His eyes he keeps near-sealed up and otherwise trained at the ground. His scales have dulled. He's shuffling forward aimlessly if not for the uniformity of the hallways. He's... oh, dear.

We're silent. He is my friend, and I'm thankful to have him around, but we don't need to stuff this time together with dialogue, not always. And plus what is there to say? My beautiful lady doesn't want me around any longer. She won't smile with me again. She won't be striding by my side. I won't... hear her say my name... voice purring with love... no, not again, will I? No, not again.

It's then that we find the silhouette sauntering toward us from the other side of the hallway. Piercingly black, bipedal, furry. Even with all of these pointers it's still rather obvious who he is.

Perfect timing? That's one thing to call it.

"Tim, may I ask what brings you here?"I call. It's not easy to force my tone higher and amiable, but maybe... maybe I can manage it. "Are you just... going on a stroll like us?"

It must be lonely for nobody to trust him all the time. And plus, _he_ loves someone too. To be fair she is the most trusting and passive of all of us, so maybe it's for the best, but still there is that barrier. Isn't he trying now? He is sharing quarters with us and we haven't died by his hand... well. There was Elijah's parents but... not _us_ , if that's anything. Not us.

Once upon a time he kidnapped me. There was an ice storm; he held onto me with his thick, scary claws. Just at the nape of my neck—stupid weak point. I don't remember how I escaped but I did—he probably let me. And then only later Espa went after me and she got kidnapped. She lost her ear because Tim nicked it off—then he threw _her_ into that ice storm. So duh, I ran after her. I think we both thought we were gonna die.

Well, the story gets longer, but to say the least: we didn't die and I didn't trust the guy. I mean who would? You and your mate were nearly killed!

But he's changed. He's changed a lot. For starters, he doesn't smell all that much like blood anymore. And for the majority he keeps those scary claws of his sheathed, or at least to the best of his ability. Okay. Those claws are gigantic. I'd make a joke about their size if I had the heart for it. Currently... well.

Those dark, soulless eyes of his run over our humble group when he steps by. "Hm... I suppose you could call it that." He pauses then, those marble eyes of his tacked onto us. "I felt Llana was in danger, and so I'm presently searching for her."

"You can do that?" Bay's voice is small but Tim makes quick note of it with a snort.

"Why yes, I can. Not with the others of course, but Llana's... you know, special. So yes, I can."

Then his eyes go right onto me. There isn't any feeling on his face, which is probably what creeps me out the most. Bay's getting a little nervous by my side, but at this point I can hardly remember who Llana is, let alone what she's doing at this time, so it doesn't concern me. Just those... those eyes. Yes. They concern me.

He whispers, then; "Pardon my intrusion if you would, but..." Pause. That deep voice of his, shifty and cold, goes spilling down my spine. "Umbre? I know it's not quite in my place to ask in concern of others, but you don't look so well..." Okay. Okay. His lip hasn't curled, I don't think he's making fun of me. Well _excuse me_ for being _careful_.

Though then again, what does it matter? My heart seizes up in me all over again.

"And where _is_ Espa? I thought it was impossible to separate the both of you."

My eyes fall to the ground. They're throbbing ruby, squinched in great focus, me trying my very best not to let another tear shed from me. "Well. I thought so, too. But I guess things happen." Cough. "Anyways the child she's carrying was"—cough—"was apparently poisoned by that creepy black stuff." Cough. Cough, cough. "And either she was gonna die giving birth to it or it'd die and let her be."

I burst into wracking fits.

"And now she..." Cough, Cough... cough, cough cough... I must be shaking... oh, dear...

A crude grin traces Tim's lip. "Now she hates you, is that it?"

My body goes silent all on its own. I wish I could dispel those words, kill them, burn them, I don't know, but... but I'm a monster now, I guess. I-I guess. J-J-Just like _you,_ Tim, just like you.

Quietly, very quietly; "Yes..." It takes my pained voice and a squeal to get the words flowing, but _yes, yes_ , my beloved hates me. And because I can't stop, because he just turned ripped open a wound and it won't stop flowing, the words pour out in front of me. "Yes. She hates me. I love her and all she does is yell and me and avoid me at all possible and now the love of my life won't even talk to me anymore!" I cry out, "Oh, Tim... Tim..." Deep, deep breaths, one after the other. "Llana never hated you, did she?"

"I was lucky then." Small sigh. "I don't know what's going on, but... Umbre. You had a choice. I've had many choices, and mine were optional. I didn't have to kill anything and I did." He sends my eyes snapping up to his. "You were to lose one of them: there was no other way. And with all that fever in her head, it's not much of an idea to give Espa the right to choose. Either way you were going to lose someone. Why would you take the baby when you can have her?"

Oh, god, help me. I'm shaking and I'm crying like the biggest idiot in the world. Everything hurts. I'm so cold... I wish I could tell her how much she means to me and hear her say it back—oh, Espa... Darling, my love... Luna, Luna, Luna...

And then Bay speaks up again. "Um, guys, I hate to interrupt, but... Llana's on a scouting mission? If she's in danger, then..."

Tim struts back from where he came. I must be in no condition to fight, and it's rather obvious how awful I look, but I start after, Bay hopping just by me. An apology, concern; no, no, they're in danger now... and that's no good...

 _Zoey_

I've got her by the arm. Maybe they're screwed, but there is no way Llana's gonna be, too. I dunno where Cheeka went—there was all that light from behind our bush, right? Well... I didn't see her, I dunno. But I saw Ember.

Made sure Llana didn't. I think she might... go crazy on me... or something... if she sees another body, especially one that up close and... well... g-gory, you know. I don't know what we're gonna do with her. I'm scared of telling her, of her breaking down and screaming, and crying... of her pretty tears draining her heart of joy and leaving her with naught but some lead ball in her chest. Oh, gosh, I don't really like that thought there! Man... I really don't like that thought there...

There's always that question after it all happens: what next? We've been running, I more trying to carry her—she's pretty light—and then trying to keep her half-conscious body running along with me—I'm pretty weak.

That thing... oh, gosh, was it some sorta monster? I mean, yeah, like the monsters that were with Tim, the one that kept being all like "ki ki ki" or whatever Llana said it was like, but that one... ulh! So big, so impossible! I didn't like it a bit! It like ripped Ember's head right off his poor body... and... and I gag—I start to gag all over again.

But... but I haven't been eating. I haven't been eating so if I don't eat, I won't puke, you know.

I'm scared... I-I mean of _course_ I'm scared, I can't name very many guys who'd be in my place and, y'know, wouldn't be. Well, there is someone, but he's the exception, I mean, he's Tim. He's practically the exception for... for everything, honestly.

Wh-What the heck was it that Quagsire said? He needed us to get out of his skin for a moment, give him a chance to breathe o-or something? I mean I get that and all but... but... it's so dangerous, so dangerous out here. That easily could've been me, all that went on with m-my pansear friend... my pansear friend who very plainly isn't alive any longer. Oh, gosh. That's right. Still running, no stopping, no clue where I am by now, I stuff one fist into my mouth and keep the other one locked upon Llana's wrist.

Letting go isn't an option. Dying... isn't an option. The thing might be gone by now. For all I know Llana's Llananess blocks it out or something, or melted it or—I don't know. I just know that it... killed... it killed someone, maybe more than him fo-for all we know. Cheeka—or others t-too. I... I don't know. I really don't.

Why am I unable to protect her? Why can't I keep Llana safe in peace..? Why am I so, so weak? Why can't I... can't I do anything? I think that—I think the castle is around here somewhere. We get in there, we get patched up, let everyone know it's just as bad if not even worse out there...

When Ember's face... ripped off of his head... I can't stop thinking about it. About that exact moment his existence collapsed into a pulpy state of ruin, how that all crumbled apart and we were left with the monster that wasn't paying much attention to us anymore. And I—I don't want that to happen to us for sure, so I have to go on... y-yeah? I kind of... kind of have to. Ember wouldn't want us to... to die.

Before all that happened, we were yelling. Yelling so loud... And he got mad at me. He told me that Tim was gonna rip my throat open; and I told him that Cheeka might explode and kill all of us right now. She hadn't done that; Tim didn't appear out of nowhere and get me. But... but all the same... when I think those words over in my head, my tongue goes numb.

Cheeka did explode, and she did... a lot of things. And Ember—Ember was there...

And... there—over there. Shadows... shadowy figures—and Bay. Bay's so bright and yellow but all those lines cripple his face, make him look old and scared... and that—oh, that's Umbre. And that's... Tim himself. There's feelings in his eyes, and they're cut up with oozing worry, aren't they? Worried about Llana. Maybe he can tell or something, he can tell when she's hurt or... I-I don't know.

I wish I was Tim.

I wish I was on their level. I wish that I was like them... and I had that power in me, and I could _protect her_ and there wouldn't be anything like what happened to Ember going on again, not under my watch. I wish I could hold out my hands and make it stop. I wish... I wish she didn't cry so much. I wish she didn't blame herself. Llana... s-stupid me... I wanna help her and yet I'm... I'm so...

When he saunters by us, he gives me that look, the one with his eyes all blazing and his gait straightened like he wants to leap at me but he'll control himself. Annoyance. Anger. Exasperation. And then his gaze goes and travels up along my fingers, entwined so tightly with hers, and even through our shaking and our fear I catch another glint in his eye: envy.

Oh screw you Tim. Screw you, screw you, screw you.

Then our eyes lock; the message I've been thinking burns right into his head. A sad little stare returns this, and again he's looking at his fingers. I get the tingling urge to slap him. I manage not to.

When they ask where the others are, I can't get the words on my lips. But they see it well enough. We're battered and all, but they suffered the brunt of whatever went on. I just want to take her with me and stay somewhere safe for a little while... somewhere safe... just for some time... just for a little bit of time...

 **Zoey and Tim tension! (Ember ;v; my child why did I kill you) and Umbre, oh no, poor Umbre! (poor Espa?)**

 **Any thoughts on Espa? Is it obvious what's going on..? xD**

 **Hmm... other thought-provoking questions I can ask...**

 **Elijah: IS ELIJAH GONNA RETURN?**

 **Me: no sorry that would ruin the story**

 **Elijah: ono no it wouldn't you already killed almost half of Paradise I mean can't I come ba—**

 **Me: nO YOU CAN'T BAD ELI**


	17. Crash

Chapter 17: Crash

Stop it! Stop it! Stop dying already! _Stop it_! That's not allowed! So stop! STOP! STOP DYING!

It doesn't matter how loudly I scream, how much I cry. Nothing matters once it's over. It only is. The others are around me—oh I swear I see them—hear them—feel them all about me and the others... I think we left Deth's home... I think we're back in this filthy, open air again... We're breathing on fumes, the kinds of decomposition that come out of dead bodies... we're breathing the air of Ember, of dead Ember. My stomach clenches but I'm not focused on that, not really.

The voices waver above and around me like ghosts. Like they're not even real... but... but if I know anything, I believe that they are. Maybe. "Ulh..."

"Ya took the words right outta my mouth, Vivi."

"Uh... F?"

"What? Gawsh. You _did_. Frickin' 'ulh' indeed. It makes ya keep wonderin', though you really don't want to... who's next? Right? Like, there's, like... not even a question about it anymore. Maybe before... but... now..? Heh. It's... well." Silence all over again. They don't want to talk about it. You can hear the reluctance like it's an accent in their voice. They share that nervous halt—like should they go on?

I... I don't know. I don't know.

Why should I know?

It's like some sort of game by now... like they're marking our points and watching our progress and they find it funny. They take guesses: who's next? Just like what's going on in our heads, only this is nothing to them, as this doesn't effect them ultimately. I remember dreams I've had and what kinds of horrible things might be coming and it makes me scared. Is it... our group size? Is that the problem? Or is it just impossible to escape? Am I... am I thinking too much about it? M-Maybe. I don't—I don't _know_. None of us... none of us do. Not truly.

N-Not even Tim. We're all suffering. There's all this... all this pain in the world right now... and I think we're going into the very midst of it. To stop it. To try and stuff it up. To make it safe. Because even so from where we were, Elijah... and Mina—Burr... everyone... it's not safe. But it's much less safe here, and that only grows to be more obvious the longer we stay here. But what else is there? Either way... either way...

Well. It's not good here. I don't want... I don't want these things to happen but they won't stop, can't stop. Maybe I dislike it so much because the being I am can't quite change all that much: there isn't room for it. I am who I am and that is all. I can't be knocked over unless it's by one stable—or stable enough—factor, and there isn't much guidance or anomaly in my... in this. So I can't... quite comprehend... what's going on with them.

It's not... very fair, now is it? No. I let out a small, shaky laugh. No it's not fair, not very fair at all. What would make me think a world like this would... would... would even think of being... o-otherwise. I don't know. If something like me exists, then I guess there is hope. It even lies in the heart of... of Tim. I'm just... a mess... an upset mess, crying and crying... like a wound that won't close... Oh, dear... Am I just some mess for others to try and clean at?

There are other voices too. Not that we were ever alone; there's all kinds of others here. All kinds of messes... wouldn't it be. "Ugh. Do tell me you blunt idiots have realized by now what a futile plan this is, for you to go waltzing through Death Central like so! You're just going to all die, honestly." Grunt. "Though I suppose either way you'll die in the end, just some speed up the process."

Splutter. "F-Frigid Outspring! O-O-Our friends were still dying there, t-too... you know..."

"Who was it you kept chirping about again? Roland, was that his name? Mmph. No wonder you're so attached to little Olive. Right? Yeah. I personally hate children, but you have yet to let go of me, and now he won't let go of you..." There is an annoyed grimace hidden somewhere in there, a powerless one.

"Anhd Nayomi's 'ttached to me!"

The grimace deepens. "I didn't ask for your opinion, idiot."

He apparently doesn't see any of this, because he goes on, all cheerful and childish. "Yeah, well! It's impowrtint to get other's t'oughts on mattews cuz that's what Rollie said t'me when I was small!" And then he goes on to spin in little circles. It doesn't help Frigid Outspring's already-smashed expression.

"Uh _huh_. I look at you unbearable kids and wonder how you take so much out of me. I guess your overwhelming _stupidity_ is so _mind-boggling_ that I don't know what to _do_ with myself." Scoff. "Honestly. Now I'm picking fights with imbecile kids. What has gotten into me? Ah. I must be going insane. Well, it was gonna happen eventually. This must make Llana and myself thoroughly acquitted, eh?" she ends up laughing. It's an ugly laugh.

But of course Jen doesn't give in. Jen believes in her... or however this goes. "He-Hey... sh-shut up about... a-anyways, they're just little. They don't fully understand everything. A-And they've been through a lot, t-too." Her face blushes into an unruly shade of violet. "C-Come on... we've all s-s-suffered, you know! It's not just you! It's not just me, or them: it's everyone! We all have!"

"Aaah... what's going on here? What's with these raised voices? You're worrying me."

"V-V-Viviiiiiiii!" Jen sobs, "Frigid Outspring is a meaaanieeeeee!"

There is a silence. Then, "Oh, great. I didn't know you were a kid in disguise too. Dammit. I thought you were cool, Jen, up until this very moment. Why did you have to change like that? I'm disappointed in you... dammit." She rolls her eyes, lips promptly pushed together.

That doesn't leave the poor, dear virizion all so happy. Her fur spikes in some places; her eyes sag. "Could we stop fighting, please? What is it with everyone? Oh, dear... It just keeps getting worse and worse now doesn't it? Please stop. We're a team, aren't we? This isn't going to help anyone." A heated, sticky silence. "N-No. Don't even ask it. We will do our best _not_ to turn out like... you know. We have to stick together, though. Please at least try to cease."

Her hooves clop as she trots forwards; the telltale follow resonates in Kyo's tone, Kyo's return. Always after her, isn't he? Is he getting better? The atmosphere mustn't be helping his head. I've been in some form or another of agony all this time... they said Ember was dead, didn't they? I never saw it, can't remember it even if I did, but it must've... must've been gruesome. He'd get right back up again if it wasn't. And then Cheeka's gone too, now isn't she. Is she dead? Are they both dead now..?

My fault... my fault... my fault...

"Gawwwsh. Let's all, like, chill out, eh? You guys look like someone's ears fell right off." Oh... is that F? What's she doing over here again? What's... what's anyone? Nnh... my head hurts...

There is a bit of laughter. "Didn't one of your team members lose an ear once? Or maybe not all of it—but a part of it, right? Wasn't she the—the purple one? Yes, her name wa—"

The silence is too stifling for her to go on.

Everyone knows by this time the position of Espa's health and her... what she's been... They said—I think someone said they wanted me to go—but I can't do anything. I must be useless. Everyone is dying all around me, Kyo's a mess, not to mention the espeon now included in that bunch. We're all tired and anxious... and nothing seems to change. Not really. There is still a thin trail of rejuvenated grasses that follow behind Quagsire's floppy feet; although for all we know even that is coming to an end.

Could he heal all of the grass? Why only one thin trail wherever he walks—wherever we all go together? P-Psh... I-I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't be laughing... but everything hurts... and only Tim can kill me... my body is nowhere near as soft and fleshy—a-as easy to shred to bits as the others are. I don't know what kinds of threads they must be hanging onto if they're still sane at this time... a-and I don't blame them if they have lost it.

The froslass tousles the bow about her icy, flaky body. She's a little red. "My apologies. I understand I've been a bit... rotten around you. You're all too soft for me, goodness."

"H-Heh..." Jen tries for a laugh, but she ultimately loses it.

What's... what's keeping _me_ moving? Why haven't I fallen over just yet? I know I don't need sleep, don't need anything, but wouldn't I want to escape somehow from this... _this_? But I guess... I guess they haven't left either, and if I threw the remaining ones I care about out of my head and left, well... that would be no good. There's something about me... something greatly important... that, in its most basic terms, could save the world. Scrape all this monstrosity off our home, let it dissolve into nothingness...

But I just see this black. I open my eyes and it's all _black_. I'm not... I'm not blind—I think I would know if I was blind—but it's as if my life has been covered and covered in... in that writing... or s-something. Something. I think Tim's words have scrawled all across me and now I can't hardly see, can't hardly move. But yet I still do.

Something important... well it must not be that important if it's out of my head. There are whispers, all kinds of whispers, that clip and pierce my name, this said importance of mine... but I just... it's my fault, my fault, I don't... I don't think I... oh. No. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough at all. Not strong, no. What was it Frigid Outspring—her face, with the children overwhelming her chilled froslass body. Powerless. We must all have been smashed in one way or another. Hah. Smashed. Broken. Wrecked... wreckage. Hahaha...

What if we're already walking corpses? What is it I'm leading them into—that Quagsire is aiming us for? A-A-Ahahahaha... It's so useless! I'm s-so _useless_! Look at this! Look at us! We'll all die by the end of this, won't we! Oh yes! Every last—every last one of—one of... of...

What is that voice? I hear... I hear a voice. A soft voice. Feathery, reluctant. Doesn't want to tell anyone its secrets, now does it? Not that I can blame such a voice. But the curiosity is always intact. What _does_ it have to say? Will it tell anyone? Tell me? But if we've already lost, then what does it have for... for... me..? Why me? Oh, dear, it's not Tim. Please don't be Tim—for that, please don't be Darkie either. _I know she's around here somewhere_. I don't want her in my head— _no, not again_. She's a monster. _But aren't we all?_ I choke.

"Llana."

Oh. Oh no. No. It's not one of them at all, it's _him_. He's _back_. But he's dead, and I know he'll never walk this earth in flesh and blood and bone again, no, it's just images... it's just me going crazy or something. Or worse. Can it be worse? It can probably be worse. But he won't stop talking and filling my stomach with cold, hard lead after each word. I can't even see him, like I can't with the others, I just hear that soft, horrible voice.

"Oh, dear. Poor Llana. You poor thing... I-I know I'm not really there, but you can hear me, can't you? So at least listen. Please if nothing else listen to my voice, and try to listen to what I have to say to you. Please? Okay?" And I know that somehow or another he's not leaving, so I think I try to nod. I want to yell at him to go away, but he's a ghost, he can't go away. Not really.

He's too soft... too soft and gentle... "Hey. Hey... it's okay. I know. We all know. We see what's going on with all of you and we feel awful, because in reality, we can't do anything. We can just watch and embrace whoever ultimately joins us. Ember's... still picking fights, but he's better about it too. I think he's embarrassed. About a lot of things. He smiles more often now."

Are there any rocks? Any rocks? I dive for the earth and fitfully come up with gloppy wet sand, nothing that I can toss into his face and make him go away. So I sway, sway, stumble, get up, go on. Why aren't there any rocks? I need a rock. I'm not strong enough to get him out, but a rock might be. Rocks are wonderful: they have no feelings, no thoughts, no senses, they're useful, they're plentiful, they get the job done. I need a rock.

Is it because _I'm_ useless? I'm so useless that I don't even deserve a simple rock? Whhhy—you stupid world! I need a rock! I need a rock!

"Ahh, Llana! Llana, please! I don't want you to be this sad! Ouhhhf..." His hands. They're around me. I don't know how that's possible but they're around me, and they're soft. "Please. Listen. Everyone's afraid, sure, but their sense of direction has come so skewed because of all the change you and Tim have gone through for sure. And they don't want... you to tear apart. They're thankful for his change, and I think some of them are even befriending him, but... Llana. They _hate_ seeing this happen to you. They're so confused. And you're...

"They don't like it, no, not at all... It makes them sad, and it makes me sad. Since I died, I've loved you, and since before then too. I know that I don't stand any chance to ever 'be with you' again, but that doesn't change how I..." He shakes his head. Angrily. I can feel the wind pelting at my face.

His whisper abruptly changes, jolts me to the bone: "Llana! Open your eyes again! They see you stumbling and crying and clawing at yourself, they see _you_ lose it, and they're even more scared than they already were! They hardly know anything by now! Llana! You're their..."

Pause. I think he's nervous. Reluctance and softness; he doesn't want to do this. But his fingers tighten anyways.

"Please excuse my language, but I need to do my best, and obviously you're not listening. W-WELL LLANA, YOU'RE THEIR FUCKING AXIS! PLEASE! OPEN! YOUR EYES! PLEASE WAKE UP! THEY'RE SCARED, LLANA!"

O-Ow... I... e-ehhhh...

I see little things sometimes. Frigid Outspring's grimace in her heart. Jen's livid purple cheeks. Elijah's tiny, sad smile. "I care about you. Llana. You were the start of all this. You found Zoey. You found me, you found Bay. Vivi, Burr, Mina... Umbre, Espa... everyone, honestly. You're their axis."

"But I—!" Suddenly in a gasp of breath my voice, cracking, comes straight out of my throat and into his face. "I don't... I'm not—"

Gently again. "Shhh. You are. Don't worry about it so much... don't think about it too much. You're just like any one of them: like poor Espa and Kyo, or Vivi or Jen. You're like any of them. And they care about you. I guess you're just... a little special." Gentle pat upon my head. "Now be good, okay? Zoey's gonna have to make sure you do okay, but... just... try your best. Okay? Try your best." Again the little smile, but it's stronger.

His dark, dark orbs are so sad and yet pretty... all over again. The others—where are the others, then? Mina and... Burr and... Roland and... Gaurdio and... Ember. And he himself. Not to mention... Iuniper. His parents. A-Ah. He must've seen them.

Wait—wait, before he goes... I need to... I need to...

"E-Elijah. You saw him. You've seen Tim all... all over f-from wherever you are, ha-haven't you?"

"Um... yeah." He's got such a sly little smirk. "I have. He's a butt, but he's also in some form or another trying to protect you, and I can't do anything about it anyways, so I guess I'll just live with it. Er. Wait..."

"Heheh... I-I'm... ah, sorry! That shouldn't make me laugh."

"Psh. Naw, it's fine. Just... try your best. I'm... I'm really sorry that all this junk went on, but try your best, okay? I'm... we're all here. In some sense at least, but... well. Heh. We're all here for you... all of you..."

It's not until after he's gone that I can see the bright, sparkling, alarming gaze of a certain oshawott looming over me. Her fluffy, white face has gone stricken, and it's her wet paws upon my hands, not Elijah's after all. Bits of grit stick around my body. I must have... must have collapsed. Oh, dear. I'm sorry...

It's here that I realize he never mentioned anything about... about Tim and—and my fault... my... ah...

Quiet, she plucks me from the ground and brushes the sand from my face. She scoops me into her arms and without a word, trots onward again... c-carrying me. G-Goodness. The others were about and looking as I... collapsed, but they continue on again. Worry knits their brows close together. But they eventually return to their idle and slow chitchat.

Ahead, a certain lilac feline takes the lead with Quagsire. It's just she and him... just she and him. Her mouth moves in avid murmur, angry mumble, and the floppy blue quagsire merely nods and nods with the sad look in his eyes. She must be... angry about... Oh, where is Umbre? Further behind, I guess; I think he's with Bay somewhere beyond. They're mostly quiet. But it's... only understandable.

"Nnf..." It takes me a moment to register Zoey's pout. "You kept saying Elijah, Elijah, when you sorta passed out... I-I get it if you had some weird dream about him, but still... still... you sounded so desperate and hopeful when you did, and you got a little serene in the face too."

E-Eh? "He... did visit me. In one way or another." I don't know. Maybe it was just a dream. It didn't feel like one, but... "He was telling me things... e-eheheh... he yelled at me at one point, told me to open my eyes. He cursed, too. But he apologized before he cursed. I don't think he wanted to, but he was getting a little desperate..." _Plip_. "Too... Um..?"

She splutters, "Buh? D-D-Don't mind me. I'm just... upset because your dead boyfriend makes you happier than anyone else does." E-Eh! Zoey! "I-I mean... I like Elijah, too. He's a nice guy and all, and I'm upset that he had to go. He and you and Bay and me... we were friends, weren't we? And I'm really sad and all that it had to... but... but why does he get the pleasure of seeing your smile? Of owning that smile..? What if..." I think she's... blushing. _Plip. Plip._

"Um... Z-Zoey. As much as I loved and missed Elijah, he's gone now, you know. And he was telling me this as well in the... um, the dream. That we can't... 'be together' in any sense of the phrase. And you're my best friend. I love you; I care about you. You know that..."

Somehow that makes her angrier, her fingers digging into my scales. "N-Noo! That's not... that's not it..! E-Even Tim could belong to you and I... and I... unnnh! It's not fair..! _I want to make you happy_!"

Oh... oh, goodness... Zoey...

"Why not then?" she whispers, very quietly.

Oh. Oh. _Oh._ A cold, dead feeling blooms in my stomach and a small smile spreads along my face. "A-Ahahah... that's because it's my fau—"

"Nnnf? Nng! Llana! Stop that! None of this is your fault, please, you know that!"

"Uh? No, no! It is! Tim and I—we're practically the—"

The look on her face splits wide open. "YOU AND TIM ARE NOT THE SAME! NOT IN ANY—ANY WAY! NO! IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! STOP THAT, STOP THAT! PLEASE!" Tiny tears bead into the corner of her eyes. "WHY IS THIS SO HOPELESS?"

Deep breaths. Deep breaths... She whispers, "Why, really? Why? Why _is_ it this... hopeless? Why am I this hopeless? It's not... I don't... Llana, I love you and I can't even... c-can't even..."

 _Plip... plip... plip... plip..._

Zoey... oh, Zoey... oh... why is it hopeless? Why are we so... powerless? Whatever happened for it to be this way..?

Gently the floppy blue face turns, along with the rest of him. Espa goes off wandering somewhere behind. And then it's just us. Him, she, and me. His hand he had perched against one of his ears—his gaze still slithering after the espeon. There is sadness in this stance, as he slowly removes the hand and glances back toward us. And there is sadness again, a whole different kind. "You poor things. Mmh... I've told you, Zoey, that it's no use. I'm sorry," he hefts a soft sigh, "but it really is."

"N-Nnng..." Her head lowers over me. _Plip... plip... plip..._

It's a little chilly now...

"Oh, commme, now! How about a story? I know the both of you like mmmy stories, yes? Mmhm, mmhm! Then what better way to immmprove this mmmmood than to tell another? You know you want mmmme to!"

I splutter; no, I don't. I want to cry. I just want to cry. I feel awful for everyone's situation, and looking at mine makes me wish I had a rock. He loved me, and he was so sweet and wonderful, and he died. He loves me, but he's a monster whose ways have warped the vast majority of us, killed us more. She loves me, and _she_ is so sweet... yet still... she...

Quagsire harrumphs again. "Oh, commme now! You know I don't tell the stories because you want to hear themmmm; that's only a nice added bonus. You _need_ themmmm. And so I speak." So as it's come obvious he's not leaving, we slowly nod. Zoey's grip is very tight, very tight along me.

His smile is small but welcome. "Once upon a timmmme, there was a very smmmmall wooper who was born into the world." The breath in my lungs disappears. Wooper evolves into... "He wasn't a very smmmmart wooper, but then again woopers aren't very smmmart to begin with. He... had a fammmily, of sorts, but eventually got lost and never learned how to get back. But that's okay. He didn't seemmmm to mmmmind. Didn't really care about anyone else, anyways. Didn't need to. Euh? Pokemmmon? Why pokemmmmon?

Zoey and I share a glance. That's not who we... "Mmm-mmm. It's not sommmmething you'd expect, right? Well. The wooper was at a loss of things, so he went on adventures. It was fun. He liked mmessing with the pokemmmmon anyways. He found them ammmusing. Which is probably why some legend or another took interest in himmmmm, and suggested saving his soul for future generations.

"He evolved eventually." A-Ah...

I don't know what to say. Somewhere behind us, Umbre and Bay stop their stroll. And behind them comes F, her thick red ears squished to her head. "He's been alive since sommmme part of another of the beginning. He knew all kinds of things he never thought about. Mmmmmany stories he'd never look back and see until... But either way, disaster and anommmmalies always attracted him. He mmmmade a few friends, eventually and very luckily found a certain ducklett who later followed in his footsteps... though she was a little mmmmore thoughtful. But that story isn't until mmmmmuch later."

Which means all of his prior stories...

"Older pokemmmmon no longer alive as well as a few legends suggested he mmmmade himmmself a nammmmme already. He wanted sommmmething strong and way too obviously fulsommme. A nammmme you'd wince after hearing. A nammme that burned your ears, it was too mmmmuch for you."

"Sir Ton?" squeaks the oshawott.

Small grin. "Yep. Mmmmary was smmmmart. I love her nammmme... heh."

"Ehh... umm..." Vivi now, face a little red, mumbles, "You can always change your name, you know. We're all... we're all here for you, Quagsire. You don't have to be a warrior of old forever... um..."

Vivi...

"Hmmm." Smirk. "I don't, no. But I kind of wish I stayed that way, Mmmary and I stayed that way. Mmmmortals die... and now that we've gotten so attached to all of you, we don't want you to go, and yet..." The smirk deflates, his smile turns rueful, regretting.

F snorts. I can't help but grin a little bit. "No, no! Screw that! Change it anyways! Be who you wanna be! Be, like, awesome, gawsh! Be yourself, gawsh!"

"Okaay, okaaay, fiiiine." He giggles slightly. "Fine." His smile is sad again. "I'mmm really going to mmmmiss this group. Mmmmmiss all of you. Honestly..."

His gaze goes to the grass trail he's left, and a very slight tear drifts from his eye.

Someone murmurs over the name "Joseph," and others pick it up, but a sad smile and a shake of the head and it's dropped.

"Mary, Mary..." I mumble under my breath... tug at Zoey's arm. "Do you have any ideas..?"

She blushes, face stricken. "N-Not that it matters."

"Yes it does! Hmmmmmm! Zoey, commmme on!"

"Ahhhh! Ummm!" She looks back. "I-I don't know, I liked the sound of M-Marshall or... or something... Mary and Marshall... I thought that was... that was nice."

We are silent as our old friend takes this in, his gaze glinting across every last one of us. And somehow... I get the feeling he's looking into more than that, but can see into our souls, into our joys and sorrows and fears. Can see everything—can see those we have lost, standing around us, with us. It's a bittersweet thought... Oh, the dear old quagsire...

Can see my... my...

"Mmmmarshall it is. From here on out. Please do call me that, and _not_ Quagsire, hmm?"

A few pairs of gazes go out for the umbreon, who blushes, mutters something under his breath. No joke this time. No laughter... not quite... not quite...

Tim, from his corner, whispers, "Marshall is a stupid name." This causes a few laughs to stir. It's... it's better. A little better.

Not too bad after all...

 **A... bittersweet chapter ;v; Llana won't show up as much in the next two. You'll instead see plenty of the others. Some subplot points will wrap up—one of which has been involved in this story since I first started the series and was a much worse writer, hahaha. Chapters 20 and onward, things are gonna happen, so look out, eheheh. This series is getting close to its end and it makes me a little sad ;_;**


	18. Cradled by Feelings

Chapter 18: Cradled by Feelings

 _Tim_

"Stop looking at me like that," I grumble. She doesn't stop. I didn't expect her to, but at least now she knows her attempts of subtlety are futile. Her sneaking up by me and glaring up at my face, her shoving around me, trying so hard to show me she is powerful... it's rather irritating. What was it she wanted? What has she gone bumbling to me over? Something about her own sense of it, of her futility.

She's not useless. She's anything but useless. Honestly. I can't help but dislike the little thing and her splutters, her constantly-wet fur, her big blue eyes thwarting me with... with what, exactly? She unnerves me, she of small words and a smaller mind. Peculiar, but still annoying. Of course it is annoying.

That sly, smug grin streaks across her cheeks as she says in turn, "How about after you stop killing pokemon. Uh-huh? Mmkay? How about once you're less of a turd, _then_ I'll stop giving you strange looks. You listening, Tim? You got that, _Tim_?"

"What is it with you today?" She's being more annoying than her usual dosage. Of course she might be riddled with a hidden trove of angst or disquiet after the scenario following the espeon and her... interesting fall from grace. To avoid her gaze, I pull out my hand, scrutinize the claws within my furry fingers. I can feel her hot, salty breath by my side. But it's better than nothing. We go on, my hand fluttering closer to my side again.

Why did she come after me again? It's not like she felt a compulsive desire to. It's not like she _had_ to. It's not like _they've_ seen her murder countless victims, mercilessly and needlessly so. It's not like she killed Elijah. That was all _me_. What, is she just annoyed with the things I've already done, with the crimes I've already committed? Well I can't change the past: I'm no magician.

Maybe not she, but I believe that sweet Llana understands that. I don't like thinking about her always... it causes my heartbeat to raise, my fur to stick out in random sections. Turns me into some sort of mess. I suppose that's how Elijah acted around her when he was still alive... it's weird. It's weird, acting _normal_. I don't know if I like it very much.

Though anything that keeps me from killing is welcome. Even these... emotions.

"Zoey, I can see the look on your face. If you'll continue that, you might as well give me a reason why." Not that I'm picky. I'll accept whatever lie you stuff into my face. Just something.

Her high-pitched warble returns. She puffs out her cheeks a little hotly. "Do I need a reason?"

"Yes." I roll my eyes toward the smoke-filled sky. Wince. "Please."

Her rueful smirk deepens. "Well, let's see, why don't we! _Why_ in the _world_ would I _hate Tim_? Hmmmm. I sure _wonder_." Oh stop that. You don't have to be so grand about it. I could still kill you. "Maybe because he's treating my very favorite entity since ever like a toy?" I could kill you and nobody would know. Nobody. "Or perhaps because, I don't know, he killed my very favorite entity's boyfriend? Not like that was a bad idea, take happiness away from Llana, pshh." I could kill you, come back to our little hideout, and say, oh, no, she didn't come with me, I don't know where she is. She must have gotten lost.

"Or maybe because you made her sad."

Ah.

But I won't. I won't do any of those things. Killing and lying would only set me down again.

And it would make her sad. And that's the single thing I'd rather keep from doing. She'll be so... small, without this loud idiot holding her company. She'll cry more. Her face will crumble and it might not mend, and for all I know, killing Zoey would kill her, and she'd beg me and beg me to slit her throat.

No. No, no. I stare incredulously at the claws hidden in my fur. My hand is back in my face. Wide eyed, wide eyes.

I turn my gaze back to the girl. "She's not so sad that she can't live anymore. She's still... okay."

"You can't toss those words at me, Tim! We both know just how _okay_ she is! And that's not okay at all!" she snarls this, eyes ablaze. My heart burns from that stare.

Oh, dear. "If you were in my position, perhaps you'd understand that I _was_ a monster at that time, which I now see, regret, and refuse to return to. You don't get how much effort it takes to change one's ways and destroy such a thing permanently. You don't get the thoughts in my head. You don't get much of anything: you're so young and immature, so naïve. But I suppose it's only understandable that _you_ wouldn't comprehend such depth."

"Sh-Shut up! You don't know that! You don't know _me_ , Tim! You don't know me! I might be completely different than the idiot I look like, but you wouldn't know that, I suppose," she squeaks these out and shoves her voice right up in my face, "BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO FEELINGS!"

"You..." Ow. Okay. I had no feelings. Or perhaps I'm still missing great, gaping holes here and there. It's only to be expected. "You misunderstand." She's so tiring...

Her cheeks simply push out the breath she's been holding and billow it all upon me. She just keeps going. No halt, no stop, no break. Again, again, her eyes seem to sing to me. Let's tell him his faults all over again. "Uh huh, uh _huh_. Okay. I _misunderstand_ that you're a big jerk who killed a lot of my friends and screwed up the world. And says he's trying to stop but then kills some more."

My deep and throaty voice trembles—I wince; "Why do you hate me so much? I see that yes, I've been a great conflict in all of your lives, and yes, I shouldn't be so easily forgiven for all that I've committed to. But even others in our group have grown lax in their hatred; they accept that she and I are in... a very peculiar situation. Why is it that the longer you're around me only results in further hatred? Does time not heal these wounds?"

She looks about ready to scream. Bright red face, bunched up eyes, balled thick hands. Stiff. Angry. I... admittedly she does scare me by some margin. She does scare me. She's a lot of what I'm not: even Llana and myself find similarities and here she is, immature and squeaky and angry. Doesn't she already have her anyways? What else could she want from me? I don't have much to offer...

Zoey swallows her feelings.

Then she screams anyways.

"GAAAAHHHH!" She's more pink than red in the face, but it's better than nothing. "STOP IT WITH THAT—THAT FRICKING DUBIOUS STARE! IT'S GETTING ON MY NERVES!" Though admittedly that yell of hers has caused me to flinch multiple times already. "CARE ALREADY, CARE ABOUT HER! SHE'S FALLING TO PIECES AND RELYING ON DREAMS ABOUT HER DEAD BOYFRIEND TO STAY SANE!"

She wants me to care about her. Me to... but isn't she already..? Oh, I don't know. It makes me wish, sometimes, that I was her. Because she has it _so ridiculously easy_... and I... well. It's just as she was saying prior, yelling at me and hating upon me: I've killed, and killed, and killed. Of course, I don't want her to knock me down even more, but the notion is evident.

It's like I've been sitting in a small river, a small, peaceful river, and all of a sudden a great, crashing waterfall has pounded into my face: that's what all this guilt over all of my kills has brought me to. It could drown me. This weight could drown me. It's... a difficult thing to balance. It would be very, very easy to drown... with such a thing.

And then of course you want to rid yourself of all of these sucking, flailing, killing emotions, you don't want them any longer. It's safer, it's easier, when you simply can't care. Yes, it is, but... oh, help me...

Zoey is... so lucky... she doesn't get it... she doesn't get it at all... and I hate that... she has Llana right there with her, following her around constantly, and she won't acknowledge how... how she has her, she has her, and Llana's not going anywhere anytime soon...

Quietly I ask her, "Why do you want me to care about her?"

She bristles. "Be-Because you're on the same level as her. You and she sh-share some stu- _stupid_ understanding that I can't because I'm not anywhere near that." Oh, is she blushing? Goodness. I turn back.

"It doesn't change that I was and am a monster."

"C-Come on, you said it yourself tha-aat you want to change that, and you-you've been working so hard and ge-etting s-s-so far with it. It's only a matter of time." Then the pout comes out of its hiding place. And I sigh.

"There is no use arguing about her now. I didn't come to feel like even more of a... well." In some ways it could be interpreted like that, I guess, but it's not at all what I meant it to be. Someone had to do it. Llana's not feeling very well—as so _kindly_ pointed out by a certain oshawott—and the others must be terrified.

That means Zoey is brave. I look up from the paw that I had been so busy with. That makes Zoey brave, almost fearless, to pull herself through torture and agony and terrorizing fear just to be by Llana's side, just to help her with the monsters around us. I wish I was that brave.

She's quiet. I murmur, "Come along. We haven't found her yet, have we? But hold your breath. I don't know what sort of state she'll be in."

I receive a shaky nod in turn. "N-Nnf... I know. We-We gotta be _real careful_." She glares into me again. "Real careful. You were gonna go out here on your own and like get suicided or something; what a great thing I came along." I give her a sneer for her efforts. Her lips curl in turn.

And then we go on. Our feet are soft and yet loud, crushing into dead leaves like bombs in the undergrowth. We hesitate at the wrong moments and she most certainly sheds water like a trail for any monsters behind. My stench of darkness probably hides us well enough; still it's a possibility, an unnerving one.

I don't say it, but I am thankful for her presence. She knows where Ember died and the general area where Cheeka might be... corpse or flesh, that's what we don't know. And it's a solemn thing—a very solemn thing—finding his body. I hadn't seen it before; Zoey shrivels and falls behind me. I let her. She clings onto my arm. I let her. She's shaking and she asks if she can go—look for flowers around here or something. I let her.

And as she goes, I make to digging. Nothing too big, but nothing so shallow either. There is a rock nearby and I make use of it, clawing deeper into this infuriating dirt where it tries to slide back into my hardly-dented holes. It takes time, a lot of time, and by the time I've finished I'm all crusty and dusty and brown. Gently I collect his body and... what's remaining of his head... and lay them inside.

My heart hurts. I can't look at his smushed, pulpy face. I can't look into his gorged and gooey eyeballs. I can't stand the stench of decay any longer; my gag impulse reacts strongly. I have to try and try again to force vomit from racing up my throat.

Ulgh...

Calm down... calm down... Zoey will return with the flowers and he will rest in peace above and below and his body will sleep here eternally—peace. Peace. My feelings subside a bit. I breathe, breathe... There are daisies nearby, something Zoey missed, so I pluck them and gently lay them around him, because I can't stand that sight.

They must all be like that. Everyone I've ever killed—this is what they turn out like. Elijah... that's what he looked like when I hurt him into a plane of existence that nearly, very nearly killed him, then let him out as bait for Munaah. Let her finish it. Let her kill him... that's what he looked like.

A great stabbing pain pierces my heart and I don't blame Llana if she hates me for the rest of eternity, I don't blame anyone if they see me as naught but filth and filth evermore. I want them to. I need them to hate me. Because this is—this is _awful_. There are no words to describe this sight... I feel so sick...

And I whisper, "Ember, I'm sorry..." And I am. I really, really am. And I cover my face; I whisper, "Oh, god, Burr, Mina, I'm so sorry..." And I bite my lip and cry, "Elijah, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry... I wish I never killed you. I wish it wasn't you that I sunk my claws into. I wish you were still here, making Llana all squeaky and blushing, happy." Dammit, why did I kill you? What, did _I_ want her to be mine? No. No. Dammit. She was happy and I ruined that. I ruined the ones I loved enough to call my siblings and I ruined Ember, I ruined Roland and Gaurdio—I killed Elijah's parents.

Oh, god. I hate myself. _I hate myself_. I hate myself so, so much... why? Why am I such a monster? Why is Zoey so right?

Dammit...

Footsteps. Quiet footsteps.

 _Shhf._ The gentle fall of roses onto Ember's face.

I look up. "Zo—" The word dies in my throat. No, not Zoey at all. And then I just cry even harder. Dammit, I could have ruined her life. Dammit, dammit...

"E-E-Ehh..." Cheeka's pale, weak body—malnourished and blooming with bruises and scrapes and cuts—folds in on itself. "I-I'm sorry... D-Don't cry, I'm sorry... D-Don't get all sad. I-I-I'll live through it. Ember would... would be really sad if I... if his dying for me wasn't... nnnnhf..." Her fingers to go her face.

We cry together. Quietly.

And when Zoey returns, she merely join us.

It's as simple as that...

 _F_

Good ol' Quag—I mean that is _Marshall_ and I are just strolling, yeah? Like. Gawsh, me, get it together. We're mostly quiet, chilling. Just a walk around our current base area. Apparently we're gettin' close to... well. It. The middle of this world. Either way. He's pretty chill; I can _be_ pretty chill. Also someone else has the kids, which makes me life only that much better. I think it was Frigid Outspring and Jen—again. Great. Whatever. Like, as _long_ as it's not me.

His floppy arm elbows me. "Do you remmmemmmmber a time when you mmmmmet such a wooper, mmmmy friend?"

"Uh? Well, like, yeah. Gawsh, we were, like, the idiot brigade. I never really connected it with you, never really remembered the whole immortal thing—okay, so legends are, like, stupid too, deal with it—but yeah, I remember it. Like... really well, too. In startling detail."

"Hmm." He nods. "There were timmmes when I wanted everyone to forget. Around when I first started mmmmmmaturing and Mmmmmary pointed out mmmmmy idiocy... hahaha." A somber grin fills his face.

Then I nod too. "Oy yeah, I get what you're talkin' bout."

It's around here when an angsty little umbreon trots up toward us. I say little but of course he's hecking taller than, like, me, and he's not all that much shorter than Marshall either. Man. I cannot get used to that _name_. I guess everyone hated me for the same reason when I, like, changed mine... whatever, sorry man. He just snorts. Umbre gives us this look like we've known each other for way too long. Then again, we have. Honestly.

Our gazes transfix to his nervous red, and he twitches a little more. I think if he gets more angsty he'll explode. Marshall nods as if in agreement. I bet he, like, is. "H-Hi... um...I was wonder if you... if you had any idea where Espa was?" The nerves multiply. He has yet to explode.

It's easy to be lax and carefree sometimes. It's good to take advantage of it when you can.

"Hrrrrrr, I think she jumped off a cliff and, like, drowned!"

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY, F!" He goes on whimpering.

Qua— _Marshall_ snorts. "No, F, it really isn't. I think she was... hmmmm, mmmmmaybe over by the trees down yonder." He points at said down yonder for emphasis. Umbre nods, still twitchy and rapid. "And your reason why, mmmmay I ask?"

"U-Um... I wanted to try and..." He smiles shyly at the ground.

Oh, gawsh. "Nyaaaaawwww, you're too cute for meeeeeee... go on, go onnn!" I call, tossing my hands toward the sky, "go on and make her happy, Umbreee!"

Then he blushes. "I-I-I'll try my best..."

And he scampers off toward down yonder herself.

I feel a little bad... looking back at it. Frickin' Marshall catches my glance in his own tiny, beady eyes. The blackness is so small and contained, so inky that I can't tell what he's thinking. Maybe he likes it like that. He and Mary both. Or... like, maybe they've had so many thoughts over such long lives that they can't keep track of them all anymore, so it collects into one big puddle of darkness.

What kinda thoughts? Oh, gawsh, am I in a lot of them? I couldn't even hardly remember the guy until he, like, mentioned it. Gawsh. He really didn't wanna be found out, did he? But I guess I can't blame him. We've all had our embarrassing pasts—and man! He was the epitome of that-one-kid-who-acts-like-he's-better-than-everyone. Though I guess most kids were. He was just... just... special. It really inflates your head when a legend decides to use their prowess upon none other than you.

A lot of things and a time long ago. That's what got him to where he is now. It's... kind of impressive. Even if legends are special... well. Legends... legends—we can't withstand it all, no we can't. Some of them try to sound all-encompassing to make everyone take them _very_ seriously and not try anything funny, which keeps them going... but there are things. There are things... psh. Now I'm scaring myself. Gawsh...

"Mmm... F, you're giving 'down yonder' a very strange look. Mmmay I ask why?" I splutter, glaring back at the big blue dummy. He just grins. Heck you, Marshall, heck you.

I clear my throat, mutter, "So I can't stare strangely at, like, 'down yonders' anymore, Marshy boy? D'ya have a problem with where I look now? Gawsh."

He smirks. "'Mmmarshy boy?'"

"Why yes. I just came up with it. You like, like it?"

He catches my grin in stride. "Very mmmmuch. Why thank you."

And then I toss a smirk back at him. "You're very very welcooooome~"

We both snort. I look away, laughing a little at the ground, and then his gaze cuts off across the clearing again. Mine follows. Can't really help all the shadow and the smog in the air... but the others still nestle around, try to make the best of it. We all do. Right? That's what anyone would do, try to do what's best, thrive in the, like, worst of things. Cuz why wouldn't you wanna make the best of it? Why wouldn't you..?

Quietly I ask, "Did he do, like, all of this? Is all of this... all of this _his_ fault?" It's an awful lot of guilt, an awful lot of darkness for one little heart to hold. I reach out a stray paw and swing it through the air; cream fur tousles with the mingled show... my claws go splotchy and shiny all in the same spot.

"Naw. Not even _he_ can do all that. There's no way. Mmmh... it takes mmmore than one timmmmeline and one mmmmeasly timmmburr to cause all of this. Plus, we're getting to the center of everything. This is where... mmmmh, it's not a good idea to inhabit. Dangerous. Scary. All those fun things, hm? I haven't been down here in awhile."

Wait, but... I glance back at the guy. "Aren't you, like, immortal or whatever? Couldn't you go whenever you want?" He's such a big weirdo. I hardly understand him.

"Eh. I'm sure I can't last... _forever._ That would... that would be quite a thing. Sure, I've been around for sommme ammmount nearing as timmmmeless as you guys, but why would I wanna risk it anyways?" He snorts. "Though I guess I'm riskin' it now, hmm." There are words hiding in those stark black eyes of his. "But aren't we both?" Darn it, what's he thinking? That floppy face and those inky eyes... I swear, he can keep everything stuffed in his soul without anyone hearing of it until he wants to.

Apparently he catches my big blue stare. "Hey, don't lookit mmmme like that..! I'mmmm just thinking, that's all. Hmmn."

"We all are," I mutter back, plucking at a claw, messing with its lustrous edge. It's sharp, but it's not that sharp. Useful, but not that useful. And when it reflects the black it gets so dark. Like... so dark. It's hard to keep a line of thought moving when everything's so jumbled up like this.

Gently I turn back to the heckin down yonder where Umbre went and searched of Espa. A bit of his glowing tail shows up around the hill and horizon, but that's better than nothing. A little lighter. Less _bleak,_ eh? "Y'see that?"

"Hm? Course I do."

"Oh come on, you're not, like, _psychic._ " Although I happen to be. Hah. Probably isn't the best place for a psychic to be: surrounded at all ends by waves of shadow. Well I guess it's a little too late for that. My eyes flicker onto the hill for just a little longer, then turn over where the children are. Jen's silvery braids go flying. I can almost hear her voice; I elbow the quagsire. "What _do_ you think?"

His eyes linger back on me. I bite at my lip. "I think that it was a bad idea."

"Errrh?" Leading me on, are you? "And must I ask, like, _what_ exactly was a bad idea?" He gets all smiley and I nearly elbow him again. Gawsh, Marshall. Marshall...

"Everything."

"Wanna be a little more heckin' specific?"

Now we both know I'm toying with him; though at the same time he's toying with me. So it all works out. "Everything, as in... everything." He sighs, adds, "Such a mess, isn't it? I feel so bad..." A rueful little grin sprouts along his lips. "I feel really bad, just thinking about it. About everything."

"Who's next?"

"After Ember?"

"Who's next?" I whisper, hissing. Our faces are shrouded, cheeks burnt red. Eyes lowered as if in shame...

The laugh I sort of expected doesn't come. Not even a fake one, filled with creamy, rich sarcasm. No. His pupils hit me dead-on from their holding ponds of black. "I'm not psychic, remmemmmmber? Anyone could be next. Or nobody, if we're... mmh, you know, lucky. It could be you. It could be Zoey, or Frigid Outspring. Or maybe... I don't know..." His stare loses its edge. "Mmme? Llana, even? It could be Llana. Ummmmbre..."

"Nyaaaw..." I mumble. "C'mon, don't mention the poor soul. Gawsh, Qua— _Marshall_ , that's kinda sad when you like stop and think about it. Why're you thinkin' about everything in the first place? Just pick up your mind and focus on something. One thing. Make it a happy thing, while you're at it... then, like, constantly keep it in your head, and use it to forge your way ahead, no matter who's next."

He's quiet. The sliest of grins addresses him.

"Mary?"

"Mmmmary."

I giggle. "Big dummy."

"Euhh. You said pick anything, why wouldn't I pick Mmmary? Riddle mmmme that." He just makes me snort again, look off at the clearing and feel that pull on my heart, the sad pull. The one that asks me questions I don't wanna answer, because I'm scared to find out. _It makes me sad, it makes me sad_ : oh, now _what_ makes me sad? Well.

He watches me, curiously, as I drop my face. Let the shadows mingle over me. "Why do you make a path of grass if it's so, like, likely that we'll all die in the end?"

"Mmm." Such a sad little smile. "Because I have a hope, and she has a nammmme. And if we all die, there will be mmmmore. As there will always be. As sommmme things never change..."

Oh... "Is someone following us at this time, Marshall? Marshall. I swear if it's Mary—"

"No—no. Not she." His head tilts toward the sky, as if searching for the stars. "Although I mmmmust say that we have very _stellar_ guidance."

"Shut up." Sorry but I had to glare. Heck him.

He pauses. Still smirking. "But now I have to ask you what _you_ think, F. You can't mmmmake mmme answer all the questions." His eyes narrow. "What do you think about everything?"

I step back. All like. "Eh? Uh? Um! Um..." Shake of the head. Heck you, Marshall. "I think it's sad, that, like... this all had to happen. But that's it's almost, like, miraculous too, like, gawsh... I've seen all kinds of crazy, head-blowing things on this adventure. My brain kinda hurts tryin' to remember all of it. Everything that's happened."

Even so, I guess I'm thankful for it. What would that be..? If I woke up another morning only to find that none of this was true, that I was still hecking Victini and the world wasn't a load of turd... I think that would make me sad. I think we all would be sad, if we woke up one morning to a world safer and unlike this one. I would miss Zoey and Vivi, and... everyone, really.

It is awful. A lot of things about it are awful. But with a little bit of good and a little bit of bad chasing our lives til the end of it... I dunno. Like... it's something to be cherished I guess. I like them. I like them all... I like them all a lot.

"And isn't that how it should be?" A small grin takes over the stupid quagsire's face, and he nudges me slightly. Points out a certain black-furred feline trotting about again. Maybe he's not quite grinning, but he's not quite frowning either. There's a little bit of him that looks ready to crack open and cry, but he's held himself together with strong walls. And not behind, while reluctant, follows she.

"Isn't that... how it should be," he murmurs again.

 **Yay, F chapters! I always like using F ;w; she's... one of my favorites... Honestly though, so was Ember and Mina and Burr and Elijah too... oh dear TTwTT But I love Espa, and oh gosh Umbre... and and and -rants until I've named all of them-**

 **It got more peaceful at the end again. I mean... well... we can't have a complete bloodspree can we? XD Ummm sorry if Tim's unruly descriptions got to you at all... I'm not big on holding back. Haha...**

 **Poor Timmy. Anyone think one day he'll stop hating himself~?**


	19. Warmth of a Blizzard

Chapter 19: Warmth of a Blizzard

 _Vivi_

"Auuhh... this is a very nice place! It's so... it's so very pretty, wouldn't you say?" Oh, dear me, apologies. I can't seem to help myself when the horizon shines like so. But we haven't seen the sky in some time, and whenever a slice reveals itself, the sun's blazing rays penetrating upon a serene little pocket of earth, I just sit there and coo and awe over it. There's nice things. Nice little memories to take home with us.

Home. What is home anyways? I never really had much of one until the others managed to wrangle me into Paradise, managed to wheedle out my stubborn old stone of a heart, open it up and find the goodness inside of me. Kyo and I... before everything went on, before he went lost and got hurt and got me hurt from his loss, we were very fine and happy on our own. No stationary place to stay, just wherever we got to when it was dark, that was it.

I want to ask him about these memories and share them with him, share our thoughts on these matters and oh please smile with him, but he's... so fragile. And I'm afraid. What if I say the wrong thing and I snap him open? What if there is a mistake that breaks him so furthermore that his change is irrevocable? What if he's already tipped past that point and my mind is only waiting to accept this and... and I _lose myself_ , say?

Oh, that's a scary plane of thought. I don't like that one. Makes me nervous, makes me quiver. Makes me feel useless.

Yes, I'm sure in some way everyone is useless, everyone is strong, but I can't help and feel weak and broken in the presence of one who once was so filled by my love. But broken glasses... can't hold anything. Even if they were once strong and durable, even if the thought still stands. And you can't fix it. Not fully. Oh, no, and so many splinters have gone missing too... no... You're not broken, Kyo, are you? Please tell me you're not broken. Not like that.

My heart races at the thought of looking into his eyes so I toss my head to the sky. And thoughtlessly, there again I mumble. "I surely love this clash of yellow. It melts away the black and the smog-like shadow, makes the air feel that much fresher on the tongue. Does anyone live in that nice little valley? It looks like quite the safe place to me, oh, yes... safe place indeed."

Memories come knocking. I recall—back when Paradise was a stationary home—back when Mystery Dungeons were everywhere—there was one. The name of it has slipped my tongue, but it was a valley, a very nice little valley. A safe valley. Is here safe too? That's the thing: we don't know. Prior experience tells us nothing when it comes to this strangely-painted present, and the future further along. With the dead falling and piling among us, left and right, it's hard to keep track and remember... remember anything.

Kyo speaks sometimes. Very quietly. Usually only in the presence of nigh none else. Llana once told me he said something to her, for me—said I looked _pretty_. Admittedly I didn't know what to do with myself. Went a little giddy with the thought of it.

He speaks now, too. "It... it _is_ safe..." Pause. A rasp in the breath. "Safe _looking_..."

"Yes, very true, Kyo." I smile, swallow, wince.

His rasp is so quiet it's easy to miss... and it... it makes me sad when I hear it—I'm sorry, I can't help it, oh, but it does. Truly it does. My heart hurts to hear his voice creak like so. But it grows creamier, richer, stronger with each try. He just hasn't used it in so long it's gotten rusty... squeaky, if I will.

Squeaky is cuter.

I like squeaky more.

Gently I lift one of my creamy hooves and settle onward. The others are just a bit ahead of us—excuse me for stopping to smell the roses. It's... a habit of mine. But it's not a good habit; we all know what kinds of terrors are waiting all around us. My pelt itches at the thought of it; I push my lips together thoughtfully. My head I turn back round as I go off, murmuring, "Come along. Let's go catch up with the others."

 _tm tm tm..._

There is a strange look within his dark blue geodes of eyes; I like to think maybe, deep inside, there is a twinkle. Like that of a star, leading his way home. T-To us... to me. But I know, I know very well, that to raise my hopes could set them off very easily: I could hinder him with my expectations. Oh, Kyo... I wish you well. I wish you very well.

Still the strange look permeates; he tosses his own creamy head back to the spot in the sky where the sun came out. A bit of reddish-blue hair floats over one eye, the rest of it billowing behind him. There is a struggling over his lips. He mutters: "But... you want to stay and look _more_."

"Ah, Kyo!" How is it he still reads me so well? I-It's a little uncanny, I'm sorry. Perhaps I'm merely a transparent soul. Oh, nothing wrong with that. "I-It's fine, Kyo. There will be other sights to see. Besides, the others must be worried about us by now: we've dillydallied long enough. So, please, come along." I can't help but note the spiking of fur about my neck.

 _tm tm tm..._

His eyes stay trained upon me; his gait is a slow and steady lumber, comforting and close to me. I know he won't melt away: not from me, not... not again, I like to wish. At least he hasn't now.

This is when he veers off.

"Auuuhh! Kyo, _Kyo_! Wh-Wh-What are you doing, Kyo!" I trip myself going after him, sending a thin shower of soil over my face and into my conventionally-opened maw. I splutter, splutter, pull myself up and race after him—backwards and thus further away from our people. Oh, dear, I need to get the dirty crust out of my iris but to lift one hoof so highly would send me into the earth again. Oh, dear...

Again I try calling: "Kyyyooooo! C-Come along, Kyo! Please come along!" What if I lose you—what if I lose you _again_? Horrible flashbacks of a palace built with naught but cold, hard ice come flooding back: the ice sucking into my hooves and forcing me headfirst into splintering, chilling frost. Nothing but the great expanse of white and blue, in its own celestial dance all about us—laughing, laughing at me. I feel so numb. Oh, dear... Kyo, come along now!

And then despite myself the ripe image of a very certain emolga's face blimps through my head: his cheeks running with tears of blood, scars and scars and slashes along his body, head nearly severed from neck, eyes wide and unseeing. Those lunges and gasps for breath: each one leading him closer and closer to his untimely demise. I can feel shivers of all kinds escape along my legs: desperate now I call his name again. "Eli—ahh, KYO!"

Yes. It's obvious by now that he's not coming back by any simple means. But I... I... _Kyo.._. It's no good to stray so far from our faithful and h-heartwarming friends. Kyo, they're our group: we'll only be safe if we're around them... I see now in stark light that the only time someone has died is when we _aren't_ altogether. Burr and Mina were on their own in the Glacial Palace when attempting to sow a new Paradise from its heart... another one, so there is more of us out there... when Tim came and killed them. He isolated Elijah... Gaurdio burned while protecting others from the fire... all on his own...

Not to... not to mention poor, sweet _Roland_... but I could never, no, never hate Kyo. No. I would do anything for him... it didn't matter if he remembered me, if he even knew an inkling of who I was... I'd still... still...

Auh. Stop this, Vivi. Angrily I shake my head; my horns fly about my puckered lip. I raise my head, my violent orbs all over the small valley we've stumbled into: a great light blooms not unlike that of a golden rose above. A golden rose... oh, that gives the sun a much prettier name. No—no, that isn't important, now is not the time to dillydally. Where is he? All throughout the small valley my gaze has yet to stop upon his horned head: why is that? A keldeo doesn't blend into a grassy plain...

 _Tmp. Tmp tmp._

Oh, dear; he's behind me. When did this happen? I have naught a clue... naught a clue... Dumbfounded, I stare at the earth, feeling like such an... such an idiot. His footsteps cease as his figure halts up beside me. Quietly I ask him: "Kyo, why have you brought me?"

"You... liked... it... here." He says it all very casually, as if it's to be expected as the world is crumbling all around us. Hasn't his head been hurting? He complained of it prior. Of the darkness or something being too heavy for his head... ulh, at any rate, even if he does leave us indisposed for some spontaneous amount of time, Marshall does craft his grassy soft of footprints to remind us of where to go after him. He always does that.

I wouldn't know. He was better friends with F in his long lifespan. _She_ would. Not I. Not Kyo, either. We may have stumbled upon him or Mary at some time, but nothing to keep the memory stuck to my head.

 _tm tm tm..._

Okay... okay. Now I proffer a smile for the dear keldeo, and I nod in thanks. I walk a little around the valley with its bright light air: he follows just at my heels. There is a thrumming of his tail, wagging so very excitedly. The smile on my lips subconsciously grows more and more real as this goes on. But... but it's not safe here. No, not safe here at all.

Now I tell him this. Deep breath. Ready yourself... "Kyo?" I turn toward him again, and his dark orbs slowly unfocus from one spot and focus upon me. There is a shy grin addressing his own face, setting his demeanor aflame in a warm feeling. "Thank you very much for taking me here, Kyo." His tail wags a little more. Oh, dear. Come on. Deep breath. Coax it out. "I have quite appreciated coming... thank you."

 _tm tm tm..._

But do _not_ say "but." The word strangely freaks him out... then... "Come along. We must go find the others now. They must be worried about us, Kyo! You understand, yes?" Smile— _smile, Vivi, smile_.

But he does not. His tail goes limp. Whatever light was around him perishes. Oh, Kyo—please, dear, come along. But he whispers, "Why? Why must we... w-we go?"

"Do you like it here, Kyo?" I watch him with big eyes. He has yet to place an opinion on... much of anything. It would be a welcome although untimely first.

Only he shakes his head. Brusquely. Eyes trained on the ground now. "No... not _really_... but... but..." He coughs. Gently. "But... you like... you like it here... Vi...Vi..."

"N-N-Nnng..." Oh, curse this blush! Kyo, why _now_ of all times must it be whe-when you start to really acknowledge me and stuff these feelings of mine down my throat! Kyo... we are in a _dangerous_ place! I want to scream this at him with all of my heart, that we need to go and it's not safe here, that we won't be safe unless we're _with everyone else_! This is how _Roland_ died! I guess... I-I guess it wasn't completely what ended Ember and even on her own Cheeka managed but... but! That doesn't make it any safer here! Only in groups were we... were we...

 _RrrrrRRRRRrrrRRRRRRRRRGGHHHHHH!_

O-Oh dear we're too late—we're too late—we're too late. C-Come along, Vivi, come and turn and face your opponent, be slow and steady and gentle about it, will you? And swallow your fear now. You must fight your opponent and keep him from killing you, or Kyo, or anyone else. Only whatever I meant to swallow coughs out my mouth when I take a look at my... at my...

"YEEEK!" All this shaking! Stop shaking! Oh, stop it! A desperate blush spreads like fire up my cheeks and I can't hardly take a good look at that thing again—but I don't need to—for that thought is already seared in my head. Blackened fur and a head nearly teetering off of his shoulders; a body once regal blue now torn and inking a heavy bloodflow of red. His quadrupedal silhouette he's tried to shove in a royal position: but he just comes off as gaudy, a-as zombie-like.

It's my brother.  
He's visited me. _Again_.  
He looks scarier... than the last time I saw him.

 _tm tm tm..._

And behind him follows the bumbling fool that followed him before too—tried to... tried to get me engaged with that boulder of a fellow! Ulf! N-No thank you, Cobalion, I d-do _not_ need your help finding me a mate! I-I-I am sorry Terrakion but _no_!

Oh, dear, what happened to them? I shiver in place despite myself; bite at my lip, claw at this blush, but oh, of course it won't go away. They're legends so they can't die easily which explains how they're so wounded and blackened without a care but maybe if... maybe if. Oh. No. My brother was always the stronger one out of us... al- _always_ the stronger one. We had the element of surprise last time... and _Tim..._ but... but...

"Aaaaah." His voice sounds as if he's smoking fire fumes while speaking. My muscles go to jelly inside of me. "Sister _dearest_ , how _nice_ it is to see of you again. It's been such a _time,_ haasssn't iiiiiiit?" Smoke does in fact bloom from his lips; my head is spinning, so very spinning... w-well. A-A-At least he would've found us anyways, following up this way, and n-n-now it's just me he-he'll kill.

I toss my head at Kyo, glare at him. _Leave me._

A growl embeds itself into his throat. _Not without you._

U-Ullhhh... K-Kyo! N-Now is not the time to be my knight! Now is not the time at all! You've been beaten to giblets by Cobalion before and this time _he will not spare you._ Dear goodness, I doubt he'll spare me. Slowly his flea-bitten tongue rips out of his mouth and cradles his lips. His golden eyes, rimmed with red guk, eye me... strangely. Oh no. He never quite was in the most righteous of heads—thinking he'll be the strongest of all legends—he'll show everyone—force me to go with him—but... now, I... I think he's lost it all.

Oh dear. Why is he looking at me like that? Kyo and I share a desperate glance, once more before his feet go _TMP, TMP, TMP_ toward us. I can't breathe. My head is spinning.

He was always faster, too. Faster. Stronger. Heavier. It's only his mind that was simple, only simple thing about him, my brother.

 _TMP TMP TMP TMP TMP._

Slowly, quietly, like a ghost, his Terrakion friend follows.

I wish I could be an optimist. I wish I could look at this mange-ridden creature in the eye and confidently tell myself, look, he's weaker, he's been hurt and burnt and torn to shreds. He's slower now. He can't possibly win against the both of us now.

 _tm tm tm..._

But I can't. Because that stare—that awful, grime-dripping stare is deathly serious. I know that now he's found me there is no way I will get away from him, no. I've fought him once, when we were younger and more lighthearted. He always won. He beat me and he beat me and Kyo combined. And now he has a great, lugging brute behind him too.

His breath is an overpowering stench of—of... _roses_. I'm shriveling in on myself. Why does he _smell so amazing?_ Why does _this thing_ have to _smell of sweet, succulent roses_? He registers my angry surprise with a... grin. My heart's losing itself in my chest. Why is he back? What's going on? He's going to tell me, he loves telling me how he's been, sit down and wait and he will. So eventually I sit. Growling, Kyo follows. And then so does he and his minion.

We're all breathing rapidly, heavily. I'm not sure why _he_ is, but I'm scared. Kyo's angry. I think his minion friend is hungry. For food. He appears... painfully thin. Perhaps Cobalion took more than his fair share... it wouldn't be the first time. He always goes and says oh, I am the most important one, so you can have food _later_. It's not quite that legends need food, only when we're taxing ourselves.

Well look at him. Of course he needs food. Look at that... at that... I can't hold my focus on him and chew a whimper out of my mouth.

"Ohhhh, Sister dearest, don't be afraid." A grim smirk edges along his cracked and greasy lips, his foul teeth. "I know I look like quite a scare at the moment, _very_ scary in comparison to my usual beautiful self, but I had to find you after what you so _kindly_ did to myself and who could have been your most potential and well-found mate."

Kyo growls again. Cobalion lifts a paw and very nearly slaps it over my dear keldeo's head. It keeps him quiet, but his eyes shriek of hatred. I'm just scared; I can't think of anything else, I'm so _scared_. Kyo could... Kyo could still escape. It's obviously not him he wants, just something with... with me. I don't know what he could possibly ask for. He knows that as strong as I am, he could easily tear me apart, so he's never found much interest in me. Admittedly he has tried to converge me into one of his... underlings. I never quite understood such a thing—or wanted to be a part of it. He let it go.

Keeps showing up anyways. What? Ch-Checking on me? If I've cracked enough to consider joining his stupid legion? Dear, Brother, I'm not that far gone. I don't think I'll ever be.

But I don't think that's what he wants. He's eying me... very scarily. I'm sure whatever it is involves some form of hurting me. Perhaps he's tired of his sister and has ultimately decided to kill her. Wh-Whatever. There's n-no escape by now... I-I-I can live with it...

Kyo growls, louder. He takes the hit and growls again. Cobalion sighs.

"How _kind_ it was for you and your little _timburr friend_ to dispose of our unconscious bodies into that... Mystery Dungeon. Apologies that I cannot remember its name." He raises one bloody paw, yanks his teeth into a dull claw, and tugs at it like so for a time. _Crrk._ "We escaped it rather quickly. The idea may have been better if we were actually sick at mind. Any _way_ , no harm done. And I must say we were very surprised to escape and find that your old home was... burnt to ashes?" He giggles, like this is a funny conversation we're having.

My heart is pounding so loudly I wonder if he can hear it. I can almost taste its pumping blood on my tongue. "So. Moving on. Vivi, I wouldn't say we were angry with you... rather." His tongue returns. His face moves just that much closer. I squirm and squirm and bite hard at my lip and try my best not to move. "I was _proud_ that you _finally_ managed to take me down..." His breath is on my lips, all over, really. And he's whispering now, like this is our little secret to share.

Come on... breathe... breathe... c-c-c-control yourself... "And I was so impressed... that I wondered if I was _wrong_ when I chose _Terrakion_ to be your mate... perhaps I had overlooked the perfect candidate." Auh. Don't say it. Don't say it. Please please please _don't say it_. I'm quivering so awfully it's a wonder I haven't collapsed. "And who is more perfect than..." He's closer. I can feel his face smushed against mine... e _eeuh_ h... "Myself."

 _tm tm tm..._

"RRRRGGGH!"

"Kyo, back down if you know what's good for yourse—"

 _CRRAGH!_ Oh, dear! What's going on! My eyes whip straight open only to find that my dear keldeo's gotten the cobalion's paw into his mouth and is furiously chomping on it. While distracting him with the minor injury and perhaps clipping at those claws of his, his horn has begun glowing to astronomical levels. In the midst of my terror I nearly forgot and quickly, heart pumping adrenaline, raise my tail into the air and allow a great strength of plant-like extension to shine and grow upon it.

I swing my leaf blade high and mightily and clap it down onto my brother's head as Kyo's explosion of water unearths. A foamy rapid of pressurized power slings through my beaten-down brother and sends him reeling toward the other side of the valley, us left in small but squeaky pants. It's quiet then. Just for a moment it's quiet then.

 _tm tm tm..._

And then great galumphing footprints— _PRN PRN PRN—_ slam up to my body and shove me, face first, into the grass below. "I got her! I got her!" calls Terrakion. His foot—the one atop me—oozes blood. I shudder. I can't stop. I'm scared—oh dear no _I'm terrified_. Frantic bursts of leaves whirl off into his fur and dig through his flesh, pointy and sharp and hardly shifting his position over me but doing something anyways. Sobbing, I try to kick at him, try to get one good powerful kick at him—ultimately melting back into the earth.

Why can't I be the strong one! Why is he so _naturally powerful_! Terrakion summons a nearby rock—a good-sided rock—and bonks it hard into my head. I can feel the blood dripping out from above...

Another pressurized blast sends waves racing through Terrakion's fur; he doesn't shift off of me. It's silent again. Soft, heaving hiccups erupt from me from time to time as my brother nears, but otherwise it's silent. Eerily silent.

 _tm tm tm..._

"Ah. How nice of you to take her in for me, my loyal henchman. Thank you very much." Snarling golden orbs bounce off into me. "Very, very nice. I never even considered that my dearest _sister_ would be the perfect one... but ah well. I have her in the end anyways. Kyo, no funny business." I can hear him then—panting—heavily—and a vine of guilt squeezes my lungs. He must be... descending into... to make him fight... oh, _he must be_...

 _tm tm tm—Grrrhh! Gawsh! I... auuhh!_

Auh. My head erects. Terrakion slams his rock into me again but I try my best to hold it up anyways. What has been that noise..?

And then I see it. An impossibly large globe of flame. It expands, contracts, and with _a—watch_ _out!_ —it expands into our little valley. The shock and the brightness leaves Terrakion's paw loose upon me, so I thrust myself out of that situation and dart off, Kyo not far behind me. We turn back around, circling the globe's wide circumference until we reach the other edge of the valley and find a small, quiet creature looking back at us.

Her cream face bursts into blush. Her big velvety ears fold along her head. "Ga-Gawsh... I knew something was wrong... d-don't look at me like that."

And as the flame expands and explodes, setting the duo into what I pray is a sudden knock of unconsciousness or even—desperately—shamelessly—death, F snorts. "I said stop, like, looking at me like that! Frickin' Quag—errrrrhhhg _Marshall_ noticed that you guys were gone. He's stopped everyone and we're gonna getchu back now. Gawsh. Um. Anyways... what's _he_ doing here?" A low snarl rests along her curled, lower lip.

Kyo is silent. That's... that's fine. Quickly I whisper, "Apparently he wants me to be his mate."

"Ew. I mean. Okay. Love who you want, whatever. But, like, gawsh: he's messed up, though. Like, really messed up. I thought he knew you liked heckin' Kyo, anyways."

"A-Ah... well. You know how he is," I mutter, "simple-minded and overwhelmingly strong."

She sighs. "Darn. What a shame." And I sigh with her.

Quietly, "Thank you, F." But she sighs again, offers a little grin. "No, like, problem."

We take great, gasping breaths as the victini watches over our surroundings. The ball of fire still burns at the earth and has yet to dispel, so they should still be distracted. We take our time and rest. I do happen to be in ownership of a healing power, so I gently use it over Kyo and myself. F suggests we "like, high-tail it, now," but... but even so, they will find me again. They should be unconscious at the least, give us time to escape. If not... well. They'll just return anyways. At least here the crossfire won't... h-hurt anyone else.

Finally the broiling flames die down; within their orange fumes out wobbles and stumbles a certain quadrupedal. Majestically he trots through fire, his blackened, sooty face held high and grimy golden orbs gleaming over me. Hovering like I'm s-some prize.

"Nyaw, gawsh," mutters our little friend.

W-Well. Terrakion hasn't summoned himself. It's safe to assume he's at least unconscious. Then F's fire-tinged fingers tug at my leg and she whispers, "Excuse my lively, like, language, but, like, should we you know _kill_ them?"

"N-Nnnnng..." Slowly, I nod. "It would be safest..." It doesn't matter if he's a half-brained monster: my guilt will come anyways.

"Hey." F offers another small smile. "It's not the first time. Bad guys... they're gonna keep bein' bad unless they're stopped, right. Well like... we'll stop this one. We'll stop this o—"

 _BRUSHHH!_

Cobalion glares at the heap of victini now stuffed into a ball and sent reeling across the fields. His nose wrinkles and he steps back toward me, the grin returning with his nearness. Still he smells of roses. Hesitant—terrified—I'm sorry—terrified. Another barrage of leaves I stuff against him and another leaf blade summoned from my tail, another swing and a swing and a swing against him.

He is unsettled. But that is all. Creaking over his feet, he snarls—not at me, but the keldeo behind me. Another burst of water slams into my brother's face, followed by an angry onslaught of bubbles. _Angry_ bubbles, I note, somewhat stricken.

It is with relief that I determine the smoke and the fighting has very well slowed him. It is with a lowered and weakened stance that he steps toward Kyo, raising a sword-like growth upon his head at him and swinging it rapidly at my dear keldeo—

He manages against the first swipe, ducks, spins, and then finds the blade _thuk thuk thuk_ into his skull. "Auh!" I frantically—anything—more leaves—more leaves—why did I stop tossing leaves keep going! More more more more more!

As slow as he is, he easily sends Kyo away, who then falls into the smoke-filled valley below. I can't hardly register the whimper in my maw. I'm shaking. I'm shaking so badly. I can hear it then—cracks and sounds of boulders tossing and thick, wet water licking against tides and... so Terrakion is to some length... some leng—

 _Oof..._

His paw is slammed against and over mine, blackened and burning gaze shoves against me. "You always had an attention problem, didn't you?" A sneer, and then the festooned sneer blooms into a foul grin. "Ah well, more for me. I'll make sure you focus _intently_ on _everything that comes next_."

No... no no no... oh c-c _ome on! DO something, you idiot! DO SOMETHING!_ I toss my feverish legs—the back legs—forward and manage to buck him off some form of balance and kick and kick and kick at the creature and force him into the earth. Deep breaths—no! NO! DON'T STOP!

Leaves I summon, desperately. The blade returns on my tail and I use the leaves and I swing my tail and kick and kick when I can against him—against that stupid— _ulh—_ smug— _ullhhh—_ face! As I continue and try and try and shove myself past my limit... then I start to tire... and I realize all too late... that I've been... been... using too much of.. too... fast... oh dear...

And I collapse into him again. And he grins slowly. I can't quite catch what he says next, but that disgusting smoky fur collides with mine and his grin goes to a smirk, this smirk to a sneer, and the sneer finally into the perfect stare of victory. He... he knew... he knew this entire time that in the end... in the end I... I would lose... c-collapse to him... a-as if bowing... that I would bow to his stupid face and he would win, like he _always does, doesn't he_?

Soft voices... I can't hardly keep track of them... something about Kyo moving... something about something else... about a bad idea, F... bad... bad idea... but it's our only idea... and we're not... like... letting Vivi go... are we... no... no we're not... maybe it'll be okay... maybe it... it...

His laugh is broken. A broken, shrewd laugh of one who laughs far too often, who laughs at the wrong things: in the faces of sorrow and despair, and fear; at weakness, at loss; against all that he thinks should bow unto him, for he is the best, the very best, that no one ever was.

I choke... I choke on such a thought... and I wonder... is... is _this_ how it ends..? Is this... is this all? Is this how... how... auh, help me... this couldn't be it, cou-ould it? This is how... I'll just be... just be...

Will... Kyo be safe? Or F..? Will they escape and realize that in the end they will at the least be alright? Will Kyo... fully recover from his... loss? Will he smile again? Please, darling... please smile again. Llana... Llana, where are you right now..? Are you... okay? Please don't be sad... please don't be sad... try and hold in the pain... but don't forget about it. Just... just smile... if you can. T-Take care of her, Zoey... Tim. Tim. Tha-aaank you for... helping me... prior... and I trust that... you find whatever it is you're looking for...

Espa..? Please... you get well, too... Umbre is desolate without you... i-it's almost... intense, seeing it... and Jen, try again to... speak without stuttering. You have a... a soft and pretty voice, d-don't... don't forget... okay... and Bay, don't strain... yourself. It's okay... sometimes to be sad... Cheeka, please... please try your best too... a-and Frigid Outspring... I know I didn't meet you for... very long but... take care... take care, take care...

They're all like precious little jewels...

Oh... oh, what a light... is this my... time? Is he going to... going to take me away now..? I'm... I'm scared but... not too scared... I don't think... no... um... and I must accept this... if this is how it... how it... will be... eh... what a light... oh what a light... it's so bright... what's going... going on..?

It smells strong... strong and... acrid. It leaves quite the taste... in my mouth... but I think... I think it's rousing me from... my sleep-like... sleep-like... ullhhf...

"...awwwsh! Get o...er heeerreeeee! You wa...t meeeee... n...t heeer! Gaawwwsshhhh..!"

"What is... this? Some teleportation... teleportation skill..?"

He glances at me. I glance at my creamy fur and small—

Substitute.

My eyes widen.

Which means—I slowly turn, and yes, she looks just like me. F is... F is... F! You—don't do that! Don't—no! No! No no no! They're going into her flame and they've got their claws out, Terrakion and lousy Cobalion collide in midair attempting to grab what isn't actually me, who is much smaller than that in reality and they instead tear into... into each other...

Slashes and snarls easily and quickly grind the bulkier fool into naught but... naught but. My stomach clenches. He's not going to... survive that... no. It's too late for him... but Cobali—F sets another fire, more fire from her fingers and psychic blasts into his face, something, anything to subdue him. She settles with her pink-bright energy as it serves a much, much stronger effect and eventually pulls him to his slumping feet...

Smirking, the virizion clone descends off toward me, hopping, laughing, eyes so big and blue...

and a claw comes out—just jutted out of Cobalion's leg—and she trips—and she falls—her body impaled through-and-through by his long, sharp... no—oh dear—now I'm running at her as quickly the illusion fades—my eyes are so wide—I pull at her but obviously it's much too late—too much damage—she was already so weak after the... after the... I... ahhH! I have a healing... healing... but... she's already so far... no... no no—I can heal this... I can... I can...

Green plucks of light wither from me and unto the victini and stuff her, fill her, struggling to close wounds and—and—

Raspy, she whispers, "No... no, don't do it. Ga-awwwsh... Vivi... don't use your own... life energy... and then die healing me... or kill Kyo... healing me..."

This stupid... lifeless valley... I stare desperately. Toss my head back and forth and everywhere—eyes streaming—but of course, _of course there is nothing_. Deep breaths, deep breaths quickly shatter and shallow rapid pumps of blood in my heart, my head pounding, throbbing horribly.

F just smiles.

"Y'be... ya be good... a-annnd... tell Marshy boy... he's a... dummy." Then her smile proudly asks me to. I can't... I can't speak—speechless. Speechless, oh, I'm speechless— _where did Kyo go?_ Why don't we _combine our energies and_... and...

F is already... fading...

"E-Ehhh... don't be... don't be sad, Vivi... don't be sad..." She croaks softly, gently, "I have more... waitin' for me up there... than I do... down here...

Quietly. "Do you remember E..? You know... the rotom... who... who..."

"That's why you... named yourself F." I stare at her. Incredulous. Of course she... of course she... he's dead, too, isn't he? Y-Yes. A-At least... at least _what_? My friend is dying before my eyes and I'm... I'm...

"Yep... that's why... heh." Hiccup. "I'll miss you guys, but... but it'll be okay... I think... least we got this... lug... out of the way..."

I whisper, breathless, "Your life is not worth that..!"

"Euh. Life..." Shrug. She's trying so hard but I... but I'm... I'm... I can't... I can't breathe, I can't breathe—why _she_? Of all of us! Why was she the one to come! To come and... come and...

"Nyaww... Vivi, no cryin'... you look over... look over Kyo 'n... be good... hrrmmkay..?"

Oh... oh, no... no... I don't... I... ah...

Her body's already started to cool by the time Kyo's found me. Plunked to the earth. Shaking. Sobbing. I can't hardly believe this is what was supposed to happen... I wish there was another way, but... but...

Quietly he sits next to me. His fur is... soft. Very strangely... soft. He speaks in a low voice, one without cracks—or without many still. It's gentle and caring, and sorry, too. But I don't blame him. That won't... get us anywhere. And I... care about him. About... about Kyo. We're quiet, then, quiet together. I don't know why he's acting so... so... this way. What's... happened. I'm scared, a tiny bit. Whatever changed him at this battle I fear will change him... in a... very strong way...

But when our gazes lock... his eyes are so bright... such a bright, healthy blue... and angrily I cry. I want to ask him what took him so long, I want to ask him so many things, I want to ask him if he still... _loves me_ but I have no words.

Kyo merely smiles. It's a sad smile... but it's a sweet one nonetheless...

We bury her body together... and then we go back for the others.

 **The entire chapter is Vivi! And F! F is... surprisingly kinda strong, haha. Maybe there's a reason F sacrificed herself? Maybe there's more than just one thing about it?**

 **Welp. I'm just speculating. XD (Wow, speculating my own story. Psh...)**

 **But there might be a hidden meaning in those words, if you feel like looking for one...**

 **(yay happy Kyo!)**


	20. Final Destination

Chapter 20: Final Destination

My fingers stay tight over Zoey's shaky palm; even if she pulls, even if it's a just a little bit, I clasp harder over her. And then she stops tugging and she instead brings herself back up to me. Her ocean-blue orbs suggest a storm is brewing in there, for all but the strong lightning-strike of color leaving her stricken in splotches. Nasty little splotches. I bite at my lip, try to pull at her a little more to come with me, but again she tugs in another direction.

She's upset about something. Though I can't blame her. Who isn't? "I-It's okay, Zoey," I try again, "Come on, just a little longer." No response. I can feel droplets of sweat, trapped in our clasping fingers, burn hotly and moist betwixt us. "He-Hey..." I go for a joke. "We don't want to end up _like_ her, n-now do we?" A horrible joke.

"N-Nng.. I-I guess not." Zoey shakes her head; her long, thin ears go swinging about her, all aflutter and restless like the waves in her face. She squishes her face altogether and her freckles disappear, only to be replaced by a worrying assortment of wrinkles. You poor thing... I-I guess I should be the poor thing... but if I keep... if I keep... I might make E-Elijah sad... so I... so I have to...

"Ahh.." Um... oh dear... I-I... stay strong, stay strong... "She... she did save _him_ , you know. And now _he's_ all better, completely and truly all better..."

A sad little smile offers me condolence. Zoey squeezes my fingers. "Sorry. It's just... hard for me. Right? She gave me a lot of strength in the things that made me insecure." Soft giggle, a sad one. "You know... like those nights when I wasn't around, that one where it was... Cheeka and"—swallow—"and you."

Cough. "Ember," I remind her, feeling like I've been punched. "Him and her and me."

"Th-Thanks." Her eyes knit together: more wrinkles. I swallow. A stab of a stare within those waters, a stab that suggests anything but recognition, chills me.

"I'm sorry. I just... sorry."

She blushes, turning back, then striding forward and taking me alongside her. The wakes are hard to stand in but... but I can't let go, no, I'm scared of letting go. "I-It's fine. I shouldn't pretend that he wasn't there so I don't have to say his name a-aa-aand then ge-eet all-lll..." She swallows again, clamping tight on her lip. I shake her head; she drops the sentence.

Quags... ulh. _Marshall_ is just ahead of us. His beady orbs have stopped with his trot, landing on our faces. A moue of sympathy has pressed into his lips, mirrored along the little lines in his forehead. Usually he doesn't... appear so _old_. I-I mean it's not like he can age any longer anyways, but the wrinkles... all these wrinkles. The small smile massages some away, but like shadows they never fully leave one's presence, not unless the expression is emotionless and monotonous. And that's no good, either.

"Do you hear that?" he murmurs, floppy blue head erected up high. I squeeze Zoey's pale white fingers as she mimics the quagsire. My gaze stays lingered on his back, on the tail languidly spinning in circles behind him. Mine might be dragging again. I don't know. I usually don't think about it. It's... sort of ripped up enough anyways. Zoey's, instead, is large and shimmering, a nice dark blue. It matches with her ears, with her long floppy legs. She matches well with herself... altogether.

The oshawott's head and then gaze shifts back down toward me. There is a small quirk in her lip; she raises a finger to point at the sky. "Did you see that?"

I blush. "U-Um... see what?" Hesitantly I turn and... oh. Where is the smoke? Or maybe that is the smoke. It's so dark and... steamy and hard to tell. Great black arm-like _things_ soar across the horizon in arcs that suggest old, dying tree branches, and crackling little things fall among us. Leaves. There isn't much of a twig blocking our pathway, yet all around us range great sizes and shapes—all unnaturally tall trunks lifting their leaves and their branches into the air.

"Don't..." I cough. "D-Don't trees and other plant life take in the... bad things in the air? L-Like the smoke we had seen prior? The smoke and the like..."

Quagsire—I-I mean Marshall—directs a bit of one hand back toward us. He's walking again, so we go on too. Other footfalls sound mostly behind, but they don't stop; like a wave our personal onslaught continues. "Mmmmh. Yeah, they do. But I think we're past the volcanoes, anyways."

Um. Volcanoes. What volcanoes? E-E-Excuse me for not _s-seeing any_. Taking our silence as a sour note of confusion, again the humming immortal waves his hand back. "Oh, you know, the volcanoes. I guess they were hard to see with all the smmmmog... and then we had a couple of forests, and that desert... oh commme on, you guys have been to how mmmmany deserts that pave way to volcanoes in Mmmmystery dungeons. It's not that different."

"Um, but it is!"

"Not now, Zoey."

She smirks. "Pbbb. It is a little different, thoough. Mystery Dungeons were like... like... weird and magical a-and junk! And because of that, then it wasn't weird if there was a random mountain range that spouted from grasslands and turned into a desert! And the forests all over the place, and then the volcano... that's not weird when Mystery Dungeons a-are weird anyways!"

"Well," he murmurs, "it's timmmme for you to get out there and realize that it _is_ pretty simmmmilar. That we all live... in one big hommme, really."

"Yeah." Zoey blinks. "Home." Her stray hand flutters back behind her, then, and in the general direction of a certain timburr and what a home he's given us to live in.

Quagsire rolls his beady orbs. "Yes of course. How could I forget? Hmmmn." Snort. "Mmmmmaybe you'll like it here mmmmore after we get to the end of our little world."

"End?" I squeak.

"Well. Not end. The mmmmiddle is where it's at, really. I think. Basically. Us oldies, we call it the Core. It's... I think it's where we can unplug all our problems and let them leave off in smmmmmudge. To say without mmmmmuch thought." Quagsire pats at his head some, then slows himself considerably. He doesn't dart back but it's evident enough that we'll be walking together for some time. He's casual about it; but he's casual about most everything. Least, that's what he portrays it to be like.

Zoey mouths the word before saying it. "Core." Her tongue darts out, traces over her lips, like it tastes funny. I whisper it, too, wondering. Shaking her head, my dear friend goes on; "So what exactly's in this Core? Is that the weird place we've been going to all this time? The middle... the middle of Truught, or whatever?"

"Hm! Mmmmmiddle of Truught indeed! That's a nice way to put it." Quagsire's head bobbles at this. "Yeah. It's... well. As you can tell, it's a little mmmmore dangerous the farther you go here. Even some of our Mmmmystery Dungeons listened to that rule—you remmmemmmber that? The Great Glacier was the scariest, and things like... like... what was it... places not unlike that one Stony Cave or whatever weren't all that bad. Mmh? Mmm." He nods and nods again.

Zoey's fingers have eased about mine. There's a bit of blush around her cheeks. "But then, Honeydew Basin broke that rule! And... oh, what did Stella call it—Flowery Rockruse and Groundrise! That one! _That_ one broke the rule too! They're real far out, and they're both so not-dangerous we didn't even see any of those creepy pokemon things spawn in there!"

There is a release in the air. "Always an exception if you know where to look. Like us! I'mmmm an immmmmmortal quagsire, say. You're an oshawott sporting immmmmpeccably long ears. Not to mmmmmmention Llana being... well, her lovely self."

"Heh... I-I guess," I mumble.

"Naw, you are!" crows Marshall, Zoey squeaking her consent. E-Ehhh, they're certainly not helping things with this blush of mine... and my scales are so pale...and it must show up so well...

Blinking stubbornly, I cling onto the first thought I get. "M-Maybe this is a little off of... o-of Mystery Dungeons and Cores a-and all that, but... you mentioned Stella. And now I'm thinking about Stella." And Gerald, too. They're a remarkable pair. Never one without the other: at least it is so in my head. Otherwise... w-well, Gerald _is_ dead.

Oh. Elijah wasn't the first—and then I squeak—as Gerald wasn't the first in my life to go, either. S-Supposedly I never quite knew my parents, but before all else I had connections to, before all else, they were the ones to go. How I met Gerald and S-Stella in the first place: because I had no parents to raise me. Didn't.. Didn't Tim kill them? Oh, most likely. Of course. I-It's a strange feeling but I almost want to _thank_ him. I-I can't dislike Tim as strongly as Zoey does, but still because of him I was able to get to know my uncle and the strange white-furred creature I never would've thought he'd travel with... and... and...

"Zoey, she's not paying attention, is she? Hrrrm!"

"Hey, Llaanaaaaaaa! Heheheh... come onn! Quaggie I MEAN MARSHALL HERE just started talking about the girl you inquired and then you go all blank-eyed on us! Come baack, Llaaanaaaa! I love youuuuuu!"

Her arms go tight about me and I can't stop the giggles. They're so loud and obnoxious—and _numerous—_ oh goodness they won't stop!—and Zoey just keeps hugging and giggling too. Her face is pressed so close to mine that I can feel the heat in my cheeks, and I must be just as red as her.

For a moment, there is peace. A wonderful moment, where Time and Life take hands and inhale, just inhale, without pulsing the world onward. Just a gentle stop.

I pause.  
Time and Life.  
Time and Llan—aaah...

Ha _haaahh_...

Zoey giggles at my exasperation, her fingers gentle over my face. She whispers shyly, breath all over my cheeks, "Llana... I never stopped and realized how _curvy_ and _angular_ your face is..." Her eyes are so very, very wide. Like little stars... "W-Wowww..."

"E-Ehhhh..." S-Stop it st-stop making me blush now I'm a-a-all nervous... Zo-Zoeee _eeeyy_... S-Stop making me nervous...

"Nyaaw!" She giggles yet again. "Sorry, Llana. Your face is all red! C'mon, Marshall's gone and disappeared now... Baah. Maarshaaaal!" I squeak.

"Ye-Yeep! Zo-Zoey, you don't have to stay so close! It's Marshall you're looking for, n-not me!"

And again she laughs. "Well yeah, that's cuz I already found you~"

"E-Ehhhh..." I cover my face and stay there for some few moments.

Eventually Zoey moves, and eventually I move with her. We find Marshall; he smirks at our little ensemble and comments loudly on the red cheeks. There is playful banter, there is a lightness in the heart.

The world exhales; it all goes on.

Shaking his head, the quagsire's smirk only deepens. "Oh... mmmh! What _was_ it we were talking about! Not girls, and nothing about rommmmmantic feelings, I don't think! Whaaaat was it!"

"A-aaAAAaahhh!" My splutter sends Zoey bristling in laughter. "ROMANTIC FEELINGS?"

The dastardly quagsire winks. "Ah! It was _Stella_ , that's right!" And neither of them comment on my newest dilemma. "Right, Stella and her existential crises... mmmmmn..."

Zoey gives him a rather exaggerated nod. "Oh, _yes_! Dear Stella! Quag... gah! Marshall! Marshall, _what_ was it you were telling us about Stella when Llana stopped focusing?" She makes a very casual deal of elbowing at my side, her giggles hardly contained. Even so, Marshall himself returns to his focusing on the words at hand; whatever it was they've been poking at me is dropped. I rub at my cheek.

"Hmmn... so, Stella. What was it again you asked about her?" His gaze drops back toward me.

"A-Ahhh! G-Give me a moment..." I mutter. "I-I guess just about her in general... i-if you know where she is, what she's been up to... I-If that makes much sense..." And then the blush returns. I rub fiercely, although I know somewhere inside of my head that it will do naught but burn harder.

The quagsire nods his bubbly head. "Yes, yes..." A strange shadow draws along the side of his face. There is still a smile, but it's a thoughtful one, a dim one. "As I'd been saying... well. Unfortunately I know little mmmmore about her current state than you. Back when you saw her last, and you cammmme back... you know, after Tim killed Burr and Mmmmina"—I understand why he must go on but he speaks it so casually—"you mmmmentioned sommmmething about her being unable to see us for awhile..." A thorough rub to his chin. "She mmmust be preparing as well. Hm?" Small shrug.

"As... well..." I murmur. "Ah! Is she... is she coming here too? T-To the Core? She'll be here?"

Marshall nods. "I'mmm thinking so. Hmmm, I wonder. That'll be quite a strange reunion," he says, voice lowering, as if to hide this and something else from us.

"Well! It'll be fun to see her again! She's sooo weird but that's okaaay!"

I splutter. "Th-Thank you Z-Zoey f-f-for your... um... your guidance?" In turn she giggles, batting her hand backwards.

Her smile is small then, nigh matching Quag... ah... Marshall's. Their little sad looks... it tugs at my heart and I gently take my best friend's hand again, gently squeeze it. She doesn't pull back but the look in her eyes, the darkness of the irises and the flick away of the wrist, just a bit of a turn. I... um, I didn't say anything wrong, did I? Oh, my cheeks flush horribly. Zoey titters softly but otherwise doesn't move.

Still we go on. It's grown quiet. The crunches of leaves and twigs beneath our feet soon come deafening. The great coalescence of shadow about the ground and therefore about us gives enough reason to be quiet: as if speaking out of turn is a fatal punishment. Nervous, I pull closer to Zoey; I shiver a little. Quagsire, likewise—um—Marshall—quakes some in turn. Right. We're both... coldblooded. There is an apologetic moue across the lips of my dear oshawott friend.

Leaning in, I whisper, "I'm sorry... did I offer another image in your head of her..?"

Nod. It's reluctant but it's a nod. I splutter. "A-Ah. I'm sorry. She was... a sort of guidance to you, wasn't she?" Another nod. "Ye-Yes... and you'd follow her around a lot and listen to what she told you... and you both were so close, weren't you?" Nod again. There's bits of tears in her gaze. I suck in a breath and block out my own thoughts in my own head, or I try to with all my effort, because if I let this next death usurp me I-I might leave Zoey in shambles... I have to be strong, ha-have to be strong.

"She sacrificed herself and... u-ultimately brought a certain keldeo from the grave." No. Say it. "Kyo." Softly. I bite my lip. "Because of her, Kyo's... Kyo's better now. She... sacrificed herself, and we're all very, very sad about that..." The warm tang of blood rushes about my lips. "But... she ultimately saved Vivi and Kyo... both of them... a-and one would say they are meant to be together, n-no? It was a very... n-noble death..."

Zoey's gaze glows a little now. "Yes... very noble." Her voice is but a shell. "Very... very noble." Wide orbs, wide and glowing. "And dear Ember... he had a noble death, too, did he not?" Small blink. Mutual survival. "Yes... yes, yes he did... he did..." There is a slow nodding. Then accompanied by her head turning back and piercing someone out there with her stare. It's hard to see them with all the dark fur and the night sky...

She whispers it again, just softly to herself. "Noble death..." Her fingers tighten around mine. Her face has come so, so pale...

Casually Marshall perks up again. "Oh? Noble deaths? Why I'd say that Iuniper took one for the team, too. It's because of her that Espa's still alive... albeit, well."

"Th-This isn't the best time to—"

"Oh, Llana, but mmmmmaybe it is." There is a small light in his gaze, but it's only small, and it's highly contained. As if he's holding it and showing his friends... but he won't let it burn them. No, it will be safe here. "See, _Llana_ ," he bites upon the name, "there is a timmmme and placemmment for everything," as if he wants _her_ to hear it, "and little mmmommmmments pockmmmark our fateful lives," as if he needs _her_ to focus, "and right now is a gift, a wonderful gift, that should never, no, ever, be wasted," as if he needs _her_ to focus on _me_.

Zoey's gaze, wavering, pricks my figure. I try to hug her, to tell her how much she means to me...

Marshall goes on. There is a strange caress in his own orbs. The light is brighter but still contained, hoping, wishing, trying, oh trying. "Speaking of precious things, is it not precious the love and affection that Ummbre endlessly gives out to Espa, no matter the occasion, no matter what's wrong with her? He's very, very caring." His eyes burn, brightly, into Zoey's face.

Is this another of their dances with fate? Spluttering, I pull back a little, release my expressionless hold on her.

"Yes, I-I guess..." Finally another word out of her. My heart pounds. Quagsire's eyes burn brightly. There is a serious air wrapped about him, a very serious one indeed. "That's... that's true. But... but one can only think about it, only be ready in case it _does_ happen, yes?" Zoey counters the blue immortal with her own stare. "And why is it _now_ that you finally... why _now_?"

He merely shrugs. "Because now is when you need it mmmmost." Small grin. "Duh?"

"S-Sure." Her eyes go off into the dirt. There is a smile, but not much of one. Again I must tug at my dear Zoey to keep her going, again those thoughts jump into my head... but... but don't succumb to them... not again... if you keep calling it your fault aloud Zoey might just... Zoey might just...

A sudden stroke of imagination zaps across my gaze, and what F's or Ember's corpse may have looked like whence they were gone... of the horrible mutilations done upon them... and I have to release my hold on my best friend to cover my aching head.

 **The chapter's finally a little bit shorter... psh xD I'm kinda like ahhh! because soon, soon pmd will come to an end! I'm on chapter twenty... 12345... yeah, literally five chapters left... oh my gosh... saaaad!**

 **Elijah: bring me back, then you'll feel better**

 **Me: you can stop trying**

 **Elijah: but if I stop trying**

 **Me: blahblah Llana will lose hope**

 **Zoey: -pouts angrily- Elijah, you're cool and all... but... nnng!**


	21. Pieces Accordingly

Chapter 21: Pieces Accordingly

"So," I murmur, tugging at a lip, "what exactly lies in the Core that causes such danger to roam around in it?" Like dragons and monsters hiding in the breeze, lingering and smelling of cold, rotten fear... and hate... and... all kinds of... things.

The thoughts of possibility are unnerving. My stomach burbles from its slot beneath my heart, which in accordance pounds thickly and heavily. I pull my hands into one big knot in front of me.

Marshall still heeds ahead of us, a certain espeon trailing beside him—slinking more—with her paws squished affirmatively about her own belly. There are strange sorts of shade about it, but when one steps close she'll... snarl. Bits of spittle have flown and hit faces. That's not... that's not the Espa I thought I knew... a-a scary thought indeed. Bay, just to my left, keeps his head held high but pitched very slightly downwards. There is a bit of angst between his fluttery wings.

The dunsparce glances up toward me. Beneath his narrow orbs is a plight of doubt. "All... kinds of things? It's pretty dark here. We already know about the little strange minion-like guys, and we've all heard Vivi's and Kyo's story about what was going on with her brother... although I suppose he's always been deranged, you could say?"

"Oh, certainly!" Vivi shakes her horned head. Green fur gently cools about her somewhat disheveled figure, lips puckering into a moue. "He... well. It's more of a simpleminded bout to a painful, hindering extreme, but I suppose derangement works just fine." She speaks calmly, albeit apprehensively, of her late brother. She gently nudges the cream-colored creature by her side, her smile suggesting him not to be shy.

"Umm... yeah... mostly that..." Kyo's lightened blue gaze dives for the earth. "I've known him for quite a long time by now... he's not very nice..." His reddish blue hair shakes with his head. "He's... not very nice at all. He's so powerful and... fast... and heavy... like intensely strong, but... he just thinks for himself and... well. Basic needs. He's... not very smart..."

Kyo's voice, while still a bit raspy, a bit hesitant, suggests a strangely comforting murmur, warm and heartful and sweet. Bashful. Oh no wonder Vivi... really holds him close. She must find his shyness... cute, and simple, to a mind like hers who never picks up upon it. I can't tell which one is more protective over the other...

A ginger grin tugs at the umbreon by Bay's other side. His luminous orbs shine dimly, a little sadly, to the sight. "Apologies, Kyo." He blushes some. "I must look like jealousy's incarnate to you. If only you knew of me prior... heh. It's... it's just a long story..." A rueful smile toward where the espeon lies; his lips curve together. There is a sigh. "A long story..."

"Ehh... Umbre..! Your constant pain is worrisome!" titters Bay. Only the umbreon in question can't hold his stare, playful or no, and again blushes. His tail drags now in the dirt.

From further ahead, but not to be lost with the quagsire, a dark-furred being shakes his fluffy head. "Oh, dear. Umbre. Don't go and lose hope just yet. I'm sure... there's still some way. I... I mean, we all know you're trying to let go of her... but I can't help and feel... I just... I can't..." Once again he shakes his head, sending curls and thickets of fur bounding around him. A shadow crosses his own dark orbs when he glances back toward Espa. There is a curl and a spike of a tooth in his sneer.

Tim, what brings such anger to your face..? A-Ahh... it doesn't quite matter; I don't need to be the one to worry for his well-being now that the others have begun their slow thawing to his name—and Kyo, it seems, has conveniently forgotten about the majority of his life after his scarring. So he's good-natured to everyone as of yet. A delightful surprise, seeing his return. If there's anyone he recalls best, though—other than Vivi—it's the other legend that was walking with us just some time ago...

No... no. Don't think about it. Bad Llana. Don't mention it, don't call it to your head. Stop.

Back to the banter... back to the banter... come on... Elijah wouldn't want you to... to... w-well.

"Well," steers Bay, sending us off into a brighter path of thought, "even so, aren't we almost done here? Guys! This means that soon we'll be back home... or wherever we want to go." A slight flash of recognition, then a shake of the head. "We get to choose where we wanna live! Is that not exotic or what?" Giggling softly, he offhandedly slaps the tension and sends it back like a tree branch in his way.

Quietly, a silvery-haired dragonet nods in thought. "Mmm... th-that'll be nice. But... but maybe... maybe somewhere colder..." Her fingers still hold fast to the froslass beside her. There's a bit of blush in her cheeks. "Or... or wherever everyone wants to go. E-Eh?"

"Ye-Yes... Of... of course..! Um." Cheeka's pale fingers wrap tighter about the child in her arms. It's the soft and green little chespin—Olive—and his face is a mess of angry blush. She just holds tighter over him.

"Oh, dear." The umbreon, while short of smiles, nods back to the predicament with such a gleam in one eye. Tim in turn glares back at his espeon counterpart, who of course doesn't turn and doesn't change. Her sashay merely goes on. And that's fine... o-oh, that's fine. Nayomi's just behind me again, and her tiny fingers curl about my hand. I haven't walked with her in some time...

What a strange thing to note. My fingers tighten, as do hers. Zoey, from her side by me, tightens as well. Bay, while he lacks arms, makes up in charm, and offers a smile toward us. Even with all of the strain that must be put on him... he's still so...

I whisper, ducking toward him, "How do you stay so cheerful? Even if you do fumble... i-it's so amazing..!"

"Eh." He bobs his bright yellow head. "It's natural for me... and I feel strange if I can't manage it." Then, quieter, "But... thank you. Thank you for, um, noticing."

I smile. Maybe it's small, small enough I hardly note it, but it's something indeed, and it's a smile.

And then there is a shatter—a shaking and quaking going down to the bone that only sends everyone to their knees, to their faces in the musty earth below. There's coughing and a squeak from Cheeka, who splutters something with her pink eyes wide, her body shaking; Umbre winces; Jen groans, hands upon her face. The stamp on her cheek—even with it gone—her fingers go to it, scratch at it. A sour mutter from Frigid Outspring sends a chill over the area.

And then there is no smile, as it is torn from my lips: they stay upright and open and have yet to scream... and I want to keep it that way... but I doubt I will manage. The air pumps chilling breaths through the air, and then subsequently through us, and there is a sneeze or so in the faint of darkness.

Marshall calls for peace above all else. Stay calm, stay close, don't try to wander—as the quakes toss his voice, wiggling and splorting, side to side to side again. It's about to snap. My throat aches in sympathy; my fists, I note, come up with a tiny emolga's hand in one and Zoey's desperate clawing with another. It hurts, I'm sore, but if I let go I might die... my arms will rip off of my body if I... dare... release...

It's cold... I'm shivering... W-Whh... Breath, breath, breath...

Softly, with the breeze, scented sweetly and serene, out comes a voice. It's almost hidden with the breath of the wind; yet at the same time it's impossible not to notice, sticking and panging all over one's head in splintered heartbeats. Trying to find the feminine lilt is like throwing stones into a pond: and then the monster comes out and attacks you. Everything stings. My heart is searching for any sign of escape—finding it—strangely—in my abdomen. I wince. A-Auh...

The rumbling... it doesn't cease, but it lessens... my ears pick up the sound then, louder, clearer, beckoning for me.

My jaw clips together, dripping blood down my lip.

It's a cold voice. Icy, chilly, penciled in with icicles, throbbing to the base of my skull. It pulses into my eyes, sends tears leaching from my gaze... makes it hard to see... like blood... but not blood, no, not blood at all... My breath comes out in billows; Zoey scrabbles at me but my breath comes out in billows, puffy and icy and white. My fingers grow numb from where they hold them; I note, frantically, that my scales... _itch_. O-Oww... And... and it hurts. It hurts so bad... it's like my entire body is coming to life, eating itself... And I note that there's nothing I can do to stop it, isn't there? Is my face... falling off?

The voice clouds my head, yet it awakens in my heart. I... know that voice. Oh—oh NO. I KNOW THAT VOICE. I KNOW THAT VOICE.

A piercing scream flits out from my lips and sets the world ablaze.

"Urrhf! Mmmmove, mmove, mmmmoooooooooove!" Marshall sees it too. Oh he knows. Oh we both know.

It's here I realize that the earth beneath our feet is splitting as we stand here. Cheeka screams as well. Cold, icy tentacles of throbbing sensation escape across our group, splashing and leeching and crawling, oh, coming. I can feel that voice and I see pitch-dark and yet white-hot orbs looking. Looking for me. For all of us, really, but looking for me. Me. Frantic I toss myself and I run without thinking, away away away while I can... as now it's not safe in groups... she'll just do this again, or something else more vile... and then we'll all be... we'll all be...

Torture rains from the sky and I run, and I run, and I run. I want to stop but stopping is death, so I don't stop, I keep running until my heart flies out of my chest, out of my mouth and I can't hardly feel anything any longer. Stray, fleeting thoughts pick up along my face and ask me, just softly: Where is Zoey? Where is Nayomi? But I don't know. They aren't with me, I know this.

But there is another pair of footsteps keeping pace with me. Not Tim's or Jen's—too light and fluttery—but not quadrupedal either... flaky. Scared. Sometimes quick and fleeting but sometimes slow and exhausting...

Blue curls catch up in my gaze. One pale hand lashes out for mine, and she whispers fiercely through the air, "Not," gasp, "let," gasp, "go!"

And I nod with as much fierceness as I can muster. Blazing pink orbs keep up with my brown, and we go on through the maze-like midst of cold and tree without hardly thinking.

 _Espa_

"Espa!" Stop it. "Esspaaaaa!" Stop it, I say. "Espaaa, waaait! Espa! OVER HERE! ESPA, HERE!"

Shut up! I turn my face and yell back at the world, yell back at that stupid, _stupid, stupid_ black-furred _stupid_ as I run, "GO AWAY! I DON'T CARE!" And why should I! Stop coming back, you awful _thing_! Stop it already! What, do I have to hurt you? Will _that_ teach you to _finally_ leave me alone! Another step propels him closer but my hisses cut him short.

Or I think they're the hisses, til I fall. Oh... darn, there's some stupid ravine and now I'm slammed— _CRGH_!—into the bottom of it. Well! Keep going! That retard's gonna keep coming unless I go! I can hear his voice even now, soft and desperate and crying for me to come back for some stupid, stupid reason he came up with, so I hiss again and go on. And then I don't hiss again, because if he comes my way now he won't get the pleasure of hearing me.

They said to run, but I didn't need that, nor the scream, to know. The ground was breaking up beneath our feet. Isn't that enough? There was some voice as well, now that I think of it. But I can't remember it. I wouldn't know someone who spoke so stupidly... _hhhhhg_...

I've been wondering: why travel with these ditzes if they're all _so stupid_? Well. I suppose the quagsire can be a delight at times. And it is safer to travel in groups... well. Mostly. Ulgh. My stomach cramps about me and I hiss silently at myself. There were markings on it at some point but they eventually withered. I don't think I have them anymore. Stupid markings. They were ugly.

It's my head that hurts the most now. And my eyes. Constantly throbbing. I've been telling that quagsire all about it since he's the only one smart enough to listen... ulh... A paw I pull from one side and scratch at my face with. A bit of goop from my eye comes back with it. Black goop. Was it always that black? Oh, possibly, I don't know. Wiping this against the earth, I go on again.

Mmh, maybe I should climb a tree. Then I'd be safe. Well. Safer, least a little bit. I wonder if any of the others came the way I did. If I see them, I'll have to get rid of them. I don't want their stupid words taking up my brain. Ulh. How... irritating. I flick my tail over my side and go on. Man... the forest is so _dark_ , too. Like... so... oh... very dark. Was it this dark when we came in? Perhaps. My legs are slowing down some. I can feel them tingling and crying out for ease.

Fine. A tree it is. I shove myself unto the first tower of bark I find, and send my claws out, racing up this new haven, forcing myself onward until my paws and claws and limbs simply ache. Then I search for a branch, and I sit myself upon it. The ruby on my forehead sputters a bit. Offers some amount of light. Nice... I sigh. It's quiet, but it's a nice quiet.

For a time I just rest.

Then as my eyes work their way open... mmmh? What is that? I blink. "uh?" There's something... hot. Down there, I mean. Burning. Yes, burning. But... weren't all the fire pokemon in our group killed? Yeah, they were. Hm. The burning... it's like a wave and goes flying all throughout this one span of the forest where I'm in.

Hmm.

But I have more important matters.

Slowly I ease myself down, and as my tail hits the fiery waves in question it begins to burn. "aw! gaah!" I shove my paws over it and hit and hit and hit at it and manage not to burn it out. G-Goodness. Instead I lie in way until the flames do, eventually, disperse, and then I hop back down and walk. Maybe the others who went this path are dead now.

 _Good_.

"ehhh...heheheheh."

I lick my paws, now swathed in ashes, and cough. It tastes like another place that burned to the ground. A place I swear I'm so close to remembering... oh, but not close enough. Was there... anything important in my life? Oof. Anyone important? I stare at my belly, a little distended but sinking, like it used to hold an answer. No, nothing. Quietly I giggle, dragging an ash-laden paw across my face, and then I giggle again, choking on death. The realization only makes me laugh harder. So hard my stomach doubles over in cramps and my head nigh-splits with a migraine. Migraine? Where did that come from?

Hahahaha... oh, I don't know... pshh, I don't know... heh... I don't know anything, now do I? Aaaahahaha... noo, I dooon't... hahaha... aaaaahaha... I wipe tears from my eyes and replace them with soot. It all itches. I'm laughing. Laughing so hard.

It comes to me that now that I'm covered in black powder I must resemble that umbreon. What was his name? He kept coming toward me. He was... annoying. He? He'd lean in close, and he grew so soft and sad and serious. Once he asked me why. Why what? I hissed.

I chased him, chased him away from me. Stupid umbreon... I hope the fire from earlier killed him. I hope he's dead. Then he'd finally leave me alone.

Giggling, I wrap my paws about myself and laugh some more. My heart aches so bad... I must be laughing hard enough to kill it... ahaaaaaaahhh...

My eyes must have reddened by now with all the crying and the soot inside of them. Oh. Just like his eyes! I laugh even more. Oh, isn't this _dandy_? Aahahaha... and no one's here to yell... it's so wonderfully peaceful... I almost wish that I did find someone, so then _I can kill them_!

"aaaaaaaaahahaahahahaaaaaaaaaaah!" My shrieking giggles send across the forestry and the burning world... and then I just laugh more. My claws I leave unsheathed, ready, ready for anything... oh yes... yes... Giggling, I rub more soot about myself.

Miraculously I find small puddles of yellow ooze—perhaps old berries—lying about ahead. Oh... And because I may as well, I rub little circles upon my forehead, my lips, my ears and my tail using this yellow. Ahahaha... silly, silly... I stumble onward, laughing and cackling and... waiting.

Nobody could've been that much faster than me. There is no corpse ahead... I wonder if that umbreon followed me and killed himself falling.

Faker... He deserved it... _hhhhhhhhhhhhng..._

Further downhill goes the sloping... there is not much of a chance to fall for me, not now, not here, but down it goes. At some point the ashes end and there is more of a lush landscape beneath my paws.

I rip at the grass. Tear the flowers.

Stay there for some time, panting, panting, wheezing. My great wide gaze galumphs about the place. There isn't much to see, just a bunch of torn earth and such. But there is... wait... oh. I tip myself aside, hushing myself, listening.

"..hhhhhhh...wwwwwhhhhh...wwhhhaaaaaaaaaahh..."

It's faint but... is... _oh,_ is that _crying_? Aaah... hahaha... _poor baby_... Pshhhhh... where is she? Oh, I recognize that cry! The little emolga—that's her! Oh—oohh _yes_. Giggling, fur prickling, my claws sheathe and unsheathe rapidly, pulling grass and bits of debris out. My lips... are a little foamy... but ohhh, what's the _deal_? Come on, come on... heeheeeee...

Slowly, carefully, I stalk my prey. I stay low to the ground and listen for her cries, and don't come too close too quickly. I can smell it, the stench of... oh, _dear_ , does baby have a _boo-boo_? Hehehhh... no wonder I smell her so strongly... that's her blood, already spilled. It's only a bit... she's still very healthy... but... but...

I laugh. _How long will that last_? Aaaaahaaha _haaaahaaaaahaaa_ aaaahhhh...

Swallowing, I pull closer. It's a little hard to navigate by sight, with all of these weird, black splotches across my gaze—oh, what now?—but her scent is so rich and fresh I won't have a problem... mmmm... My eyes ache, and my head is spinning, but the rest of my body propels me onward with ease... I'm so hungry... oh, I'm so ready... hahaha...

Oh.

Huge dark eyes stare out from a small clove of grass, further and out of this clearing. I'm just in front of her and she's looking as if through me. Sniffles, sobs, clasping her elbow where a tiny eke of blood flows... bright, red, flowery, rich blood... her tiny, crumpled body... she smells so _sweet_ , so _succulent_... Somehow I get the feeling that after I kill her, after I _eat her_ , there will be a point of no return.

Or is that right now? Well. I'm ready. Hahahaha... I've _been ready_... aaaahaahaa...

It's time for you to join your brother, _darling_... oh, children are so messy, but that's alright...

A purr murmurs through my throat, and it quickly transforms. "rrrrrrRRR _RGGGGGH_!"

I jump.

"auuuh!"

I fall.

Hisses sizzle through my lips and I toss and turn and turn, trying to the best of my ability to dislodge this thing grasping me. There's coughing behind my head and a lot of voices tumbling though me, but I don't hear them. My gaze grows angrier and angrier the more I stare at that sobbing, shrieking kid... she's so _light... so bright..._ Grrrrrrhhh... I don't want to be her _shadow_... I want to _eat her_... give me... give me...

"ESPA!"

"AhH! GET OFF! YOU RETARDED UMBREON, WHY DIDN'T YOU DIE WHEN YOU FELL? OFF OFF OFF!"

"ESPA, LISTEN FOR ONCE! PLEASE"

"I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATEYOUIHATEYOUAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

"THIS ISN'T YOU! DARLING, STOP!"

"YOU'RE SOOOO STUUUPID! AAHHHHHHHHHG!"

Then he's silent. But he won't let go. I mouth _retard_ under my breath, struggling, but he's somehow stronger than me. What..? What? My body's so... scrawny beneath his. Why am I... so... so hungry? Because I haven't had any flesh... to feast on... Give me... give me...

His head pops over mine. He's upside-down now. I hiss, he smiles. It's a small smile and a sad one but he won't stop smiling. "Espa..." The smile blooms. "You're dressed like an umbreon, darling. I thought that was the last thing you wanted to be, mm? Luna..."

Spittle coats his cheeks after my next hiss.

"Your parents called you Luna. They were idiots, remember? Two fighting-typed parents—combusken and a lucario—and I guess at some point they had a relative with an eevee. So out popped you. And they wanted a nighteon, thinking, oh, a nighteon, that's an evolution of eevee, right? Luna it is.

He giggles and I hiss louder, but I'm not strong enough to block out his words. "And they were the only pokemon in town to have any sort of eevee in the family, so they named me, the stray, too. Kinks. A weirdeon, was that it?" Small tears from his eyes. I hiss again.

"I'm here, darling. It's okay. I'm here." Uh? What? That's a... he's not going to go on. O-Okayyyh... "You don't need to feel lonely anymore. You don't need to worry. Espa, it's okay, darling, I'm right here, right here... and I'm not leaving..."

Again I try to hiss; only I catch a look at myself in his eyes. Big, pupil-black eyes...

Yellow circle about my head, soot against my purple fur...

 _What am I_? I want to scream it at the top of my lungs, but I've run out of breath, out of strength. I'm just... sobbing. Shaking. Cold. So cold. My fur... itches. Really badly. But not where his fur lies... no, it's so warm... Wh-What am I? What's happened? I... I... Umbre... _Umbre_...

He whispers, silkily, "You hated that word. You hate 'stupid.' Never used it, not as far as I know... and then I... I just knew there was something wrong... it wasn't me at all, oh, no, and it wasn't you, either... but that... that monster. Then I just..." Smiling, softly, he licks at my face, at all the soot and the strange yellowish berry juice on my face.

"Mm. Nanab."

"U-Umbre... Umbre..." He starts, gaze pouring intently into me. "Umbreee... I-I-I'm sorry... W-Whh... I'm sorryyyyy..."

He pulls his face just up to my ear. "Espa. It's okay, Espa. You got me to wait. I've spent my whole life with you, I never had to. You were always there... heh. If anything, you've taught me the virtue of patience." S-Stop it... stop being so... w-wonderful...

He makes me sob even harder.

"Umbre..! I-I-I l _o_ oo _ov_ e _yoo_ u..."

He continues his gentle, constant licking, pulling away the scraps of a face that wasn't mine, returning me to the espeon he so loves.

 _Bay_

Ahhh... oh no... oh, dear... everyone's taken off... I can't remember what—was Marshall... uuf. He said something and I missed it... and now they're all gone. Ooh! Oh, dear... if everyone's gone then... maybe I should've... ahh. The ground is... really shaking beneath my belly... oh, yes, very very shaky. I hop up with my wings and note, for a split second, the great line of faults splintered into the earth.

They're falling apart. I'm falling in.

Oh no! It was run! He said run, didn't he! Only—only _I didn't run_! I stayed here like a fool, waiting! My eyes widen much more than the pinch they're used to as I flutter and flutter and try so hard to escape too. When I hit the earth again, there's a sickening _grrch_ from where my head went.

Oh no. Oh no! Go go go! Bay!

But it's so hard to see now! It's all... it's all drenched in blood... I try to pick a direction and nearly stoop over into a widening crevice... oh, why did I stay there for so long? I'm so stupid... oh, dear...

No. No no. Don't think like that, it feels awful. Swallow your bile and keep going... keep going... come on... ulhh... my head... I think something cracked when I fell, yes, something important cracked—oh, my skull, duh. Ahhh.. go on, go on! All kinds of splinters and blisters and scratches are welding into my figure the longer I take! Go Bay go, _plea—_

 _Grrhh_...

oh no. Another... another opening.

 _GRAH_!

Aaahhh! _Ow ow ow ow_! My tail, ohhhh! I had no i-i-idea they could s-slaam shuut o-o-onn youuu! Aahhh, tears of pain! Ow! I can't hardly see! Ahhhhhh... oh dear... now I'm stuck... and I'm just... crying... and weak... and bloody...

That icy voice comes back: this time it's laughing. Laughing right at me... I swallow my anguish and try to hold up my head. She must see my pain clearly and find me hilarious. For just a split second, before my head crunches open again, I catch sight of big eyes and great lengths of waving white hair.

Oh, Darkie. Of course.

Then all light and sound goes out of my body.

 _AuurhrhghhhhhhhhHHGGHGH!_

Ahh... I can't... I can't feel my head. Nor my tail. Oh, nor any of me... for that matter. My heart pounds in my chest and the smile I'm trying so hard to hold withers as it all comes down on me, oh, that I might be dead, and if not that, about to be. I can't stop whimpering... B-Bay... pull yourself together... I try so hard to blink the tears from my eyes...

There is a light. It's not The Light, but it's not light of day, either. It's... glowy. Transparent. Gently the brimming body pulls itself toward me, and I get the sight of big, dark eyes. White body, yellow highlights... those big, dark ears...

I swallow.

"Am... am I dead, Elijah?" I can't keep the whine out of my voice and I look away shamefully.

"Aww..." Soft sigh. "Bay... it's okay, Bay. I... I don't know if you're dead. I-I mean, I've seen Llana a few times, and she.. can't really die. But I think you could be in a position that... w-well." He breaks off awkwardly, trying to look toward me but at the same time unable to.

Big breaths... big breaths. "O-Ohh." He doesn't know either. "U-Um. Elijah."

His ears perk. "Bay?" There's light in his eyes, but it's a somber one.

"You... really, really mean a lot to me. Okay? D-Don't forget that! But... I... I dunno if... I want to die!

And then the tears come. I wish he wasn't transparent but to... be that way... with him would... ulhhh! "I'll miss everyone, and I want to keep he-elping them! Jen's been under a lot of stress, and Vivi doesn't know what to do with herself. I wanna get to know Kyo and grow in my... in my friendship with Umbre... and I can't stand his pain for Espa, i-it's not faaaiir..." I bite at my lip, try not to sob so loudly, oh, but I do.

Quietly I whisper, "As happy as I am to see you again... I don't... I don't..."

"It's fine... Bay, I understand." Small smile. "Do that think you always do, Bay. Believe. I know you better than _anyone_ else... and I know that as long as your heart is light and open, you can do anything. Eheh." He looks away, almost like it's painful to see me.

"One... one more thing."

Already... he's growing splotchy in my eyes. So I whisper it louder. "One more thing. One more... one more..."

He nods. Gentle.

"How is everyone doing? And um... well, I guess this makes it more than one thing but... heh... any... any messages for her... saying I make it back..?"

"Ah... u-um!" Blushing, Elijah looks away again. "Tell her... te-ell her that... she needs to believe in herself too. But... I believe in her... um... um!

Tiny grin. It's so... weak. "Ember's adjusting surprisingly well. He's... sort of happy, I think, to finally be understood. Mina and Burr and Gaurdio—they all... they're... so proud. They're _so proud, Bay..._ Heh... I can hardly believe it... um... F's not sad. We met this rotom dude... she's okay. Don't worry... uh... Roland's sad, but he's happy too... What else... ah!"

He offers another smile, facing me again. "I've missed seeing you. You're my best friend, Bay."

I look away then. Words come to my mouth, words I really want to say to him, that he's my best friend, too... but then he's melting away... and the pain in my head, the splitting, aching pain comes right back... and I note a great, black, furry hand in front of me.

Ah—ahhh!

I don't care how he knew or how he found me. I know he's got claws and all kinds of scary things hiding in his head, but I also know other things. And with all the strength I can muster, I try my very best to let him know that I need him:

"Hee...elp... me...eeeh... Tii-ii-iiimm..."

 **Oh noes! Bay's seen the everafter—is he about to die? Is Bay gonna die? (I don't even know if I know myself personally xD)**

 **Who's Darkie? Well. Do you know? XD Probably! Hahaha... well you should... know?**

 **She hasn't had as many hints in this story as she did in pmd2 and 1, but look, she's here, back in the flesh! Bum bum bumm! And another showing of dedlijah, oh man. (what does it all meaaan?)**

 **Elijah: Don't call me that**

 **Tim: it suits him, call him that**

 **Me: ahahahaaa**

 **Dedlijah: GAHHH!**

 **Not to mention that Espa... is she back? bum bum! (there was some more plot this chapter than other stuff, haha)**


	22. Is there no Path

Chapter 22: Is there no Path...

 _Marshall_

"Hmmmmm. How very nice to see you again, old friend. Isn't it splendid?" I nod, paste a happy smile on my face. "It's been so long, too. Would you like to treat me to refreshmmmmments like the good host you are? I'mmmm fine either way, but you know how kids are when it commmes to food." Casually I once again pluck the little chespin from the ground and plop him in my lap. He squirms some more. Fine, be that way. Whatever.

The more or less lady in front of me narrows her eyes. I'm not quite looking at her face—oh what a bad idea that would be—but around it, aside it, so the slits aren't that hard to notice. She blinks. Sometimes. Euh. "No, I _don't_ have refreshments as I don't need them. Well I suppose sometimes I would, but I very well know my limit and I don't see a need to overly tax myself."

"Is that why I'mmm not dead?"

A grimace slides over her lips. "You tell me." And it makes me laugh, only worsening her demeanor further. But that's whatever; she's whatever. Olive sputters around casually, his hands landing over my face, on the ground, pretty much everywhere.

With a smirk, I murmur, "So it is, or it isn't? I wouldn't know." Slowly I turn myself closer to her. "I ammm just a bummmbling mmmortal, now aren't I?"

"Ugh! Stop that!" The area round us grows noticeably colder. Olive keeps close to me. He's a smart one. "You're so annoying!" Probably why I brought him with me. " _Why_ did you have to get here first!" Much smarter than the other kid, and maybe the others too. A silent, willing smart to listen to me. "I'd rather kill you all off—now! One by freaking one! Urrrggh!" Immediately.

I let my face grow a little more caustic with each of her shouts. Olive stiffens and stays there by me, pulling on my tail and keeping it wrapped about him. "Perfection is illusion, mmmmy friend." She just sort of stares as I bring a hand to my face and wipe at the strain in my cheeks.

"What are you talking about this time!" does she so thunder back, "stop being a freaking _weirdo_ and _make sense for once in your life_! Ugh! I hate how dubious you get, it's so annoying!"

Well. "So I'mmmmm gonna tell our enemmy _exactly_ what I mmmean so she can cream us. Hmm. Not very subtle, but if I hadn't noticed, what a great idea would that be!"

She yells again. I laugh, patting at the chespin's head.

"Come _on_ , Quagsire! You know how indebted you are to me! Stop being so... so... infuriating! Your entire _life_ should be mine to control! St-STOP MESSING WITH MY STRINGS!" Oh. Ouch. That burns.

Softly I clear my throat. I take my time. She's growing exasperated. "Darkie, may I say that I have mmmmy own nammmme now? And it's Marshall, for your informmmation."

She hisses. "No. It's Quagsire. Or _Sir Ton_ , if I must go there." She waits for a flinch that doesn't arrive. The hiss returns with further hatred. "Listen to me for once! Ugh..! Why did you stop helping me! When did you become so... so... so..!

Deep breaths. She tosses her head back and I catch one big glimpse at her shuddering figure. She must feel colder than I: even Olive. She must feel colder. Then I look back and make sure once again the chespin doesn't look back at her. I've already told him: don't get any glances. Let me do the watching. But just to be sure. Kids these days like to do things for themselves sometimes. Understandable mistake.

"Quagsire. Marshall. Whatever." There is a coughing. "You know very well what our agreement once was, what we all decided to, much long ago." Cough, cough cough. "Whatever. May I"—cough, cough—"ask you, plea"—cough cough cough—"sehhh if you would so kindly... kindly... tell me"—wheeze cough—" _why_ you stopped. Please."

She breaks off into a fit. There's tears gleaming like jewels in her eyes.

Hmm.

"Dear Darkie, you didn't need to ask." I grin softly, pat again at the chespin. "It's quite obvious, hmmmm? Why else do you think I'd put down your strings and lift mmmmyself to sommmmething else?" My grin blooms.

Another hiss. "This isn't about your interest and what it was lost in." She takes a moment, filling her lungs deeply with air, and moves on. "I ask you one simple question aa-annnd you wo-n't eve"— _Kff, kff kff kff kAFFF! KAFF KAFF KAFF KAFF KAFF KAFf... kff... ffh... fhhk..._

There is a murderous glare betwixt her eyes. I don't look quite at it, but I can feel it easily. Olive giggles.

"Well you know Mmmmary never liked i—"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT THAT STUPID SWANNA AND YOU KNOW IT!"

Well it was worth a try.

I giggle with the little brown chespin, keeping him wrapped safely up in my tail and pulling myself to look once again into her eyes without quite making it there. They burn with such a feeling now. I must be making her angry! Fun? Uh... well I don't have to worry. She's not gonna try to kill me. "Mmmmmaybe it is. Who was it that birthed _her_ immmmortality? Ah yes. What did we call her? Liyati? Psh."

There is an angry core within the one who would love to kill Llana, love to kill Zoey and Vivi and Kyo and pretty much everyone. All but Tim. Well. Unless she looked at him now; then she'd kill him too. She wouldn't be able to understand the want to stop. She's... naïve, eh? Glancing back toward her general direction, I murmur, " _Why again_ did you name yourself Darkie, dear girl? Wasn't it... because you were scared, and you thought you wou—"

"STOP IT!"

"—take her own name and—"

"I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU!"

"—change it a bit so that it fits you? Wasn't that it?" Oh, but she's not listening, fingers stubbornly shoved to her ears so she doesn't have to answer. Yes, this is her least favorite topic of conversation, isn't it? Olive and I giggle, just softly, together.

The poor... little... girl.

While she isn't listening, ears so cleverly plugged in, I look into Olive's big amber eyes and I tell the child a story. It's a wonderful story, one that would make any kid of any size and any age smile, just because that is how it is. Full of magic and action, an adventure quite unlike any other. A story about a girl who was strangely life-changing, full of a power she couldn't even understand herself. Of course, there were other powers in this world, powers that like hers were on a level that could not be understood, powers evil and wreaking havoc in the world. But meeting her crumbled the barrier and softened the heart, cradled the soul.

It's a magical story, one hard to believe and hard to understand unless you've seen it yourself, unless you've felt that power yourself and it's changed you, too. You, a creature having lived nigh as long as time, you, who was locked in their ways and treading a dangerous road, you, who found comfort in the little thing who surely had no power, no soul, other than her strange, otherworldly light. Magic. Some might call it that. It's... quite amazing. Surely _some_ form of magic.

It made a woman like Mary smile... so sweetly...

Only Darkie won't listen until she sees my lips cease, in fear that I'm telling a different story all about her, so she doesn't get to hear about this beauty. What a shame.

 _Frigid Outspring_

We're still trying to stitch my arm back together. It's not... working very well. A mass of red has seeped through my bow now tied to said arm—the left arm, at the very tip of the shoulder, if it's any important—so of course by now it's quite obvious that I'm gonna die. That's whatever. Everyone I knew and loved is now dead. A lot of their friends are dead. I'll feel a little bad, you know, leaving Jen alone, but it was only a matter of time for my string to run taut and someone to cut me from this world.

She's still muttering over herself, braids tossed upon her face. It honestly doesn't make it harder to see her expression of pinched fear or harder to hear her words of pressed fright. She's talking nonsense, put it plainly. And you just need one look at her face to see why. Fear is like an engine, driving us around and around this world. It may as well be how I made it this far.

In a very, very quiet voice, the bagon whispers, "why did this happen, why you, what did it, what did it, who is so horrible as to do this."

Um. We've been over this, hon. But I might as well tell her again. Maybe _this_ time it'll stay stuck in her head. "Jen." Oof. That's a rasp if I've ever heard one. I'm going down. "I've told you however many times. This _forest_... is _filled_... with _traps_. Messed... up... traps." We both could smell the burning of fur, hear the hissing of flame in the air earlier. Wasn't near us, but anyone with half a brain could tell. Me, I'm unlucky. I didn't die a fast, burning death. Oh no. I stepped too close to a tree, the tree grew teeth, the teeth bit my arm off.

Like. What the hell? No, no seriously. _What the hell_? I get that there are all kinds of weird pokemon out there but when the hell did trees grow teeth? Whatever. Maybe I didn't get a good look at it. Though of course it doesn't matter, as either way I'm screwed. Too much blood loss for my thin, fragile arm. Dammit, I wish froslasses regrew them. Such a fragile body.

Then again if I've made it this long there must be _something_ good about me that kept me going. That's one way to look at skills and flaws. Something's gonna make you die, but something else is keeping you going, so therefore you're not a complete failure. Well. It's one way to look at it.

"Jen." I try it again, wincing at this rasp. Man. My voice used to be deeper and luscious, a little awkward but I liked it. Now it's just... well. Dying, right. "Go on, already. It's... no use, waiting for... for me to.. to... _die_. It's gonna happen so... so it's... it's whatever. Go... on. Already."

If there's anything I know. And I do. Honestly. I've seen how many corpses in Death Central? These guys, they're stuffed full of hope. Maybe they'll make it, it looks bad, but maybe they'll make it: no, dammit. My sister, older sister, we're both froslasses, right? Well I watched as her dainty little head got plucked off her body by some other atrocity, _I know_. My arm is just as dainty and just as bloody. Maybe it's not my brain but it's whatever. Goodbye.

"N-NO!" The only time she gets loud.

I sigh. She's just making it worse for herself.

But I know she is, and she knows it too. It's in her eyes, those tiny amber slits she's failing at hiding from me. Just the fact that she's trying to hide it makes it obvious it's _something_ important. Important to her, that is. I've gotten... a little on the rusty side with feelings and the like after my losses.

No. No. That's a lie. I've gotten bad at the _expression_ , but otherwise it's all the same.

Jen's face is only one of many, one of a sea of innumerable faces, all the same and only slight suggestions bringing in any sign of difference. But those all are dead, and she's the... only one remaining. It's true, isn't it? I think it is. I feel it in my heart. Hell, I know it in my soul. I try to laugh sweetly but it comes out bitter. The grimace lacing it only adds to my feelings.

It does no use to mope. My arm is bleeding out as we speak. I shouldn't move or I'll just go faster, stimulate the flow, but either way staying still won't keep me going for that much longer. Jen stays with me, her smaller dragonet body placed protectively in front of my stupid, fragile froslass figure. When she turns, periodically, nigh-constantly, each time there's another jerk in her gaze, another thing she's trying to keep hidden.

I humor her and pretend she isn't so easy to read. Holds the innocence in the poor thing's mind. I'd rather... be sad... if I saw Jen die, too. Her body's stronger, being a big bulky dragon—of sorts and all. Trees that randomly grow teeth shouldn't eat her to bits. Oh, traps—damn. There must be more out there. The thought sticks into my head and I nervously squeeze my rapidly-decomposing shoulder: is anyone _else_ about to die?

Oh, god. The damn dunsparce. He didn't run. I remember that. Jen and I, we got out quickly—but he... he just sort of stopped. Confused. The broken look in his face suggested he'd tried to hold in too much and he was going under. Aw... shit.

I don't want them... to suffer too. I realize this now, stubbornly forcing at a whine in my throat, trying and trying to pull it back down: they don't deserve to suffer too. Hell, maybe I don't, either, but it is a bit too late for me. I've done all kinds of regretful actions in this old life of mine. If anything, honestly, I had it coming.

The little gold one... no. He didn't deserve something like that.

Innocence. Such a precious... little... thing. Jen, shaky, turns herself back toward me again; apparently something's different because her face loses much more color than the little it already had. She's biting through her lip. A bit of red, like paint, spills down her lips, down her neck, _splat_ on her chest, _splat_ down her stomach, _splat_ to her toes, end. The tears follow accordingly. Even so, her cheeks only pale and pale faster and faster: such a dizzying sight.

It's awkward; I try to clear my throat of these feelings. A cough, cough, some sort of gurgle—ah, there we go. "Jen..? May I... ask... what... is it?" Come on, focus on her, dammit. If you don't you'll just be stepping on a heart already trodden.

She's pointing at my face. And my arm for that matter. Curious, I try to take a glance at what sort of predicament may be going on with this left arm of mine—and the motion chucks me over— _thhp_! Ah I see. Ow... there's the problem. A-ha... I'm running out of blood... aren't... I..? Well... I knew... it was coming...

Oooh... I feel... sick. Ooooh... oh, I've never felt this sick before... I've caught all kinds of illnesses, more than I'd like to ever dare tell someone... but this... by far... is the worst. And I realize, smiling stupidly, horribly, whimpering without end, that this is a sickness that starts the moment you're born into this world. And it doesn't matter whatsoever what you do. This is a sickness that you can't stop. There are no vaccines, no antibodies. You can only stave it off for so long.

A wet little laugh dribbles from my lips. I cover my face. My arm hurts like hell, throbbing, bleeding, crying and pulling off from the rest of my body. One day, maybe today, maybe far off in the future, all of their lives will come to an end. Bay's, Tim's, Cheeka's, and yes, even Marshall will die one day. Ohhhh, what a thought.

Then isn't that... why we have to enjoy our times here? No matter what it is? All kinds of bad activities... all kinds of better ones... smiling... yelling... laughing: simply _enjoying_ ourselves in this world. It's not like there are any rules when you're born. Not really, no. I'm flooded then with thoughts, little thoughts of the children we had been rather unfortunately babysitting prior to this moment, prior to when the damn tree bit my arm off. And I smile.

Slowly I lift my shaking fingers to the bow tied around my bitten shoulder. A pull here, tug there, and it falls to my hand.

Finally my arm, with a long sigh, comes undone.

"Jen..." I whisper, hoarse and stupid, "Jen... Jen, here please." It takes me a moment to realize she hasn't left the spot right in front of my face since she watched me gracelessly fall. Taking in a breath, I go on, speaking quickly—Death is looking at me. He's waiting. He's calling, Death is.

I swallow, try to go on. "Jen, Jen..." I hand her my filthied, bloodied, deep blue bow of ice. I can't remember at this point who gave it to me. Honestly I might have stolen it—oh well, now it's a gift. "I can't... I... nnnh..." I want you to have it, I want you to have it. It's hard and futile from the moment I started but I manage to tie it, loose and loopy, around her neck. I want to tell her not to forget washing it, but take it, take it.

Someone's talking to me. It's a softer voice, nothing like Jen's but still very feminine and mellow, but whatever, give me another moment. I pull my face close to her rapidly-paling, her red-flecked one, and I plant my lips over her forehead, just for one more moment.

And then the voice is louder. Commanding. A gentle commanding. When I turn, soul and all—hell, _both arms and all—_ a creamy face meets mine. Yellow... with pink. Ah, a mienfoo.

"I believe we haven't had the courtesy of meeting... nnh. Oh well. Come along."

She extends her hand. I take it.

A final look back to Jen, and we're gone.

I can feel more then see her tears, feel more than hear her sobs, wish more than know that she'll turn and go on. It's all I can do... wish that I said goodbye... go on, dammit... go on...

I'll... miss you... Jen.

 **Oh come on if it wasn't obvious to you that Jen liked Frigid Outspring... xD I mean the moment she met her she wouldn't leave her side! Hahahaha... Oh, Jen...**

 **So anyways! Hi again, if you've been reading! This is my first chapter to be released at a normal time, hahahaha. The others were prolonged because the wonderful Shadow Snivy was busy beta-reading chapters seven and nine! Thank youuuuuuuu!**

 **Tim: -w-**

 **Me: Tim say thank you**

 **Tim: Why?**

 **Me: she thinks you should be with Lla—**

 **Tim: PLEASE REPLACE HER AS AUTHOR**


	23. Without a Touch

Chapter 23: ...Without a Touch...

 _Zoey_

"Yeeeeee! Tim, Tim, Tim!"

"Oh _why_ must you be this loud?"

"TIM IT'S IMPORTANT!"

"Ouhhhh..."

Sure, he's mad, but I hear those huge feet of his come by me. _Fump, fump, fump_. Hah. I mean, I know why he told me to stop being all annoying, but this isn't annoying, and I'm sure even if Bay does wake, not only would that be good, but hey, then he can see too. Slowly the timburr peers by me, up by where my hand points, further along in the foliage—where there's a bit of sparkle not unlike a luscious cream silhouette. Red-and-blue hair, that big horn on his head, and a thumbprint of cerulean following. Silvery braids... hmm, I think their heads are tipped back too—downward back. Oh...

Tugging on his big Tim hand, I whisper, "Should we go over there?"

"No."

"Whaaat?"

I glance over at that dark old face of his. Guarded—or trying to be—and a curl of the lip. "It's dangerous, Zoey. Of course we're not going over there. Traversing through the forest's great mass of trees when we instead could go on this rather kind path? I mean, sure, that makes the path sound dubious, but believe me: if they're putting the paths this close, they _want_ us to go through that little area of destruction. It's safer here." Eyes sharp as usual... or whatever. He can't be that smart. No fair.

Trying to be annoyed, I fold my arms and spit at him. "Oh, come onnnnn! But the path _is_ dubious! Don't tell me you don't remember all the random pieces of ground... that... like..." We'd put a foot on the earth in front of us... and it'd turn out there wasn't earth there after all. My face loses its pallor just... thinking about all the times he had to grab my arm and keep me from... falling into... I-I don't even know what.

"Yes. So would you like to face that again as well as I-can't-even-imagine-what going over there? I'd say our lives stand a higher chance of staying that way... _here_." There's a bit of a smug look on his lips, like he knew I'd try to get the best of him. Whatever _screw you_.

Llana? You should look at him right now. I don't... I can't completely name what it was, but that look in his near-sparkling blue eyes, his blackish-gray fur, bright and healthy and, I pull at his hand, silky. And that's not the best part, no. Llana, if only you were here to see who he hefts so protectively in his arms. If you saw how well he was handling our poor, dear dunsparce friend...

I'm scared to think of what you'd do. Heh. I feel like you'd forget about me, taking one glance at him...

He's holding him. I used my water control and washed away the blood, but he's the one who's been looking over him, checking the pulse and however it all works. His claws haven't come out since... well. Since the time I _nearly fell off one of the cliffs and he couldn't grab me fast enough_. So.

We go on, just quietly. I keep stopping, asking him questions. He might be annoyed, hard to tell.

But each time he'll take in a breath and answer me. It's... funny. Really funny. Angrily, while I'm ahead, I wipe at my face, claw at the things in my eyes. It's funny because I _know_ Llana's going to smile. He's worked so hard and changed so much and he's embraced all of the things that come with feelings and living... without complaining, without stopping. He... apologized for everything. I remember showing, he and Cheeka sobbing over that grave, my fingers full of flowers.

By then I knew. I just knew.

A small, broken smile glides over my lips. My eyes are wide. I'm sorry, but I'm scared.

Neither of us... try as we did... could catch up to Llana. Well. Cheeka did, so she's not alone... but we weren't fast enough... and by then we'd just kind of stopped. And then—Bay—and... auhhh... Ll-Llana, where are you..? I got excited when I saw the blue—but it wasn't Cheeka, and obviously the other wasn't she herself. Tim knows I'm trying, he knows how badly I want to find her. I'm sure he feels similarly... and I think he's too blunt and male to figure it out but...

"Zoey?"

"Uh?" Since when did he ask things? Awkwardly I turn back and plant my feet to the ground. On the attempt to intimidate him, I stick my hands on my hips, try my very, very best to glare at him. He just snorts. Oh screw him. Give me _something_ , right?

He just kinda gives me this look with those dark blue eyes of his. Shaking his head. All that fluffy fur goes in circles around him. "Nothing."

I scowl. "Oh _come on_! It was something, obviously, or you wouldn't mention it in the first place! Tim! You haven't even asked anything, just shoot!"

"It's not really a question."

Oh whatever. You were gonna tell me. Don't leave it off like that... you... you butt. Looking at my face, he just grimaces like he might as well and goes on. "Your face is sad, Zoey. It's only understandable, you being distressed... especially with our missing snivy and all kinds of... problems. But you've been distressed... for some time, haven't you?"

Oh. Well. W-Well. He gets one big glance at the pallor in my cheeks as I turn back around and stomp forward. L-L-Like I'm answering that! Y-You big... me-ean _butt_! Oh... oh come on, Zoey, Zoey, deep breaths, relax, breathe, breathe. Don't... get all mad at him. Like he understands emotions as it is. But that's... that's just it: his fierce attention paid to that one look of mine, the concern in his stupid deep voice, his care in answering my questions, his calm demeanor when I didn't answer his one. S-Stupid. It's stupid.

I can't win.

And it's not fair... no, i-it's not fair. I fold my arms over myself, trying very hard not to scream at him again. It's easy to want to scream: I'm particularly loud, he's a meanie, you know. The like. And he's... better. I guess. Just one glance at that stupid, stupid care in his strangely gentle gaze, the way he holds our unconscious friend... I doubt he's even considered thinking about killing him, about hurting him. M-Man... I didn't realize it until after it started but... I don't... know if... I want him to change. Smiling horribly, I whisper, "Death... noble deaths."

He takes his time sauntering toward me. His taller figure... he catches up easily. "What is that you said?" Burning gaze on my face.

I-It's not like it's something that has to do with _you_.

"What... What do you think..." I whisper, shivering, "of... that?" Clueless, he stares back, mouth hanging a bit open. "A sac...ri...fice."

"Zoey." The glare I get in turn suggests I'm an idiot. "Don't say that." Very very tempted to counter back at him, I snap my mouth shut and narrow my eyes. "Zoey, no, truly. _Don't_. Don't die. She'd be... desolate... without you. Oh, dear, Zoey; you know that." Cough. "Don't you?" And then it's just that clueless stare again, mouth hanging a bit open. I didn't think I'd want to slap him this much after he stopped killing people.

While that dark gaze of his slits across me, I offer my broken little grin. "Of _course_." A bleak stare results from his own face. "Yes, oh, of _course_ she'll feel that way without me... of course she would when she's got _you_." Pant, pant, pant... Ulllh... I-I feel so wretched...

He just goes on. "Of course she doesn't think that. Dammit, Zoey, if nothing else she's your best friend. And I'm sure that's more than enough already. You're much closer to her than I am as it is, aren't you? You've known her since the beginning, been there with her since the beginning." His own smile in turn is without pity, without pain. "You have her. Stop worrying, alright?"

...idiot.

But because he'll keep pestering me with his idiot thoughts like the idiot he is if I don't, I nod and continue onward. Let him think whatever. I in turn go back to... it. What F did... what Ember did. A... noble death. The word is scary on the tongue and cold to the touch but... but... just in case... My eyes go through his big, furry head. Just in case... I could... always... h-hhhhh... Oh but I could... but I could... I'm behind him now so I can cover my face and fret all I want, because he has Bay to worry about, not some crazy oshawott...

So I breathe. And I breathe. And I breathe, and breathe and breathe one breath at a time. I'm still here, aren't I? Yes... y-yes I am.

"Hello!"

Tim starts and turns and glares at me as I stare at him because no, that wasn't me—it was—it was—! We both go pointing at the green bushel-like furry thing that just came out of the forest without a scratch on her. He nearly yells but then I shout at him and he doesn't and we wait, and there are deep breaths. Bay is kept safe in the timburr's arms.

He mutters, "Who are you?"

"Oh? Ummm? Llana didn't tell you about me? Oh! Oh no! She forgot! Well... I guess it _was_ a long time ago... and Stella did say it was unlikely the girl would go blabbing about her dreams as it is..." The... fluffy quadrupedal raises her minty-green head and grins anyways. Bright pink eyes, bright pink... what is that.. uh... a pendulum around the neck? Huh. "Hiiii! I'm... I'm Herb! Stella's friend, Stella's friend! See, we followed the grass just like the quagsire told us to and now we're here!"

Her voice is... so gentle... yet so bubbly... I don't know what to do with myself... aaaaah...

Tim and I share glances. I scoot closer to him.

Though... we both remember the path _he_ made with his healing blue toes.

Our new best friend Herb goes on, happily jumping toward us. "Oh, new friends are so exciting! I love new friends! Yeah! I love new friends so muuuuch! Are... are you Zoey?" Her gaze goes through me, then, "Ahh! And you're the big bad timburr who killed everyone but wanted to stop! Yes, oh, how exciting! Stella was telling me all about you!"

She casts a look at the dunsparce in Tim's arms. A small smile buds at the lips, and then she's looking right back at me.

"Um!" S-Sorry... now I'm all nervous. "U-Um, who are you, exactly! You're... friends with... I—I mean, I remember Stella really well, she used to show up out of the blue a lot but... then she stopped. And then I think Llana saw her once and then we... didn't... really see any of you..." I step back and subconsciously step on Tim's toe.

We continue staring at the green fluffy thing for a moment there as she stares back at us. "Huh. I guess our messages didn't go through? Well, that's okay. We were busy with... other things. You know, 'Death Central' is pretty hard to get through... and we had to bury that one Roland guy's body, because nobody else did. Not to mention those other legends..." Sitting by us, she lifts a leg, starts scratching her stomach.

"Uhhhh." Tim and I share glances again. He's not exactly angry... but there's a bit of a crease between the eyebrows. Yeah, I think she's weird too. But I guess she... answered my questions. We're back to staring at each other: she to us, we to her. My cheeks burn.

"Oh! Oh, yes of course! You all must have been split up! We did stumble upon that clearing open and full of dangerous crevices earlier... but then we split up in search of you, oh! Come along, come along! We still have to exterminate the darkrai, right? So let's goo!" Herb casually scoots up close to us, pulling at our faces with her paw. "Oh, come onnnn! We've gotta find Llana! She's important, right?"

She waits for our nods and starts away. Because I guess we were going that way anyways, we follow along the path.

 _She's important, right_?

Why even ask that? Nnh... Llana...

Noble sacrifice... noble death... is she okay? Does she need my help? Can I... can I still be of use to her? Can I still save her from something? She's not... so far... above me... is she..? I pause, rub at my neck, and follow after the others. Hmnn... Llana...

 _Espa_

Another thicket passes by about us, thick and slimy not unlike the possibility of being digested by a swalot. I wonder what waits for... waits for us ahead. Umbre's just by me, our fur rubbing against one another, little Nayomi on his back—there's no way I can carry much more than what memories I am in account of at this time.

I. Um. Uhh... I remember most... things. The past, or what hasn't been forgotten prior, that's all there. Being Luna the eevee without a slight idea of anything in the world, escaping with a certain Kinks. I traveling at day, he sleeping and carried by me. The opposite at night. Our evolutions, the changes of our names.

Oh, dear. I remember... other things. I remember Nayomi's older brother—what a sweetie. A pessimistic sweetie, but still a sweetie nonetheless. I remember a timburr of browner origins, his furry and hefty body supported always by... a grin. And jokes. Bad jokes. And song. He had a beautiful voice... and a girlfriend I always loved. Mina was the greatest...

I remember when they died. When all of them died. And others, too... oh...

And—my memories, yes. They started to deteriorate after... after that little... goopy pokemon... attacked me... and nigh decimated my stomach. Yes, that. There were markings—markings on my stomach. We didn't think much of them... bruises? Yes, I recall that. But... afterword it all... it all just... it's all one hazy blur. Few things stick out.

That... frightens me. I whisper this to Umbre, his great red orbs gentle over me. A small, sad smile, but... I know all the same he's more thankful for the fact that I recovered than the thought of what happened to me. I don't think... he wants to be reminded of that time. No. I don't think he wants to remember it at all. But all the same... it wasn't hurt that pulled him away. It was... was... oh dare I say _the absence of me_? U-Um...bre. Swallow, fierce blinking.

He doesn't accept my apologies. It's not my fault. He's happy. His smiles are... happy. His voice is rough. The look in his gaze suggests he's still... struggling. So I stay with him, of course I do. I'm not leaving, no, not again, not at all.

Of... course it bothers me that... I wake up... to find that... I'm never going to conceive Iuniper. But... the pain in my sweet mate's face is more than enough to keep those thoughts away. I... want to comfort him. There's pain in me, too. Oof. Of course there is. But... But... but... oh...

"Um...bruh." Oh? I believe the emolga has stirred. My violent orbs spare a glance to her face and the cut of hers we healed. "Umbruh... hasn't told jokes. Hasn't... hasn't been hap...py. Nuh, nuh. Sad... Umbruh. Wasn't... same. Nuh, nuh, wasn't same." Her head she shakes strongly.

Umbre blushes as I glance back at him. "E-Ehh. Of course you're listening to the child."

Smirk. "Oh, come on, dear, I haven't been around. If you won't tell me anything, then perhaps the child will." A soft sigh peels from me and my lips curl to a frown. "Umbre... what's been going on? What has happened, when I was... er... indisposed for that time? Were you... how were you... faring?"

"Er..." Before the baby has a chance to speak again, he fills the silence with stutters. "I—well... you see! Ah... you see... Espa... um..." Shy? Since when have you been... shy? "W-Well... errrr... it was... it was—hard..." Swallow. "Hard. Yes, that. I felt... like a different soul. Just—just in general. I wasn't okay. Heh. At all. No. Your... disappearance... _changed_ me." Suddenly he's breathing hard, like there isn't enough air, like he can't hold anything down.

Ah, Umbre! Umbre! Darling, please! He takes one glance toward me and while he softens there's still that sadness, that remaining sadness he has yet to let go of. "I'm sorry. Give me... time, please." Cough. "Dear, please... just time. Time with you... time without this much pain, and fear, and loss. Just... some... time. I'll... feel better then."

I splutter, "Oh, my poor Umbre!" It sends blush all across his face, blush that usually didn't show so easily, and I pull my lilac paws about him and just stay like that for a moment. Now that I think of it... I wasn't always this quick to react in love, was I? No... I got embarrassed. I let him tease me around the place...

Now I'm scared of... being too slow. Ha-Hahahaha... Of not being there in time, of... of... horrible things. Oh, dear. Horrible things. "Umbre. Umbre, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." Gently I smush my head into his, staring, staring into his pained gaze. "Don't worry about anything. You'll be stuck with me for as long as... as ever!" Forever, forever... and ever... and ever...

"Es...pa." He's chewing at his lip, ears pulled back. "Espa... Espa... I-I felt so lonely, Espa... I didn't know what to do with myself... I felt like each moment was slowly, slowly wiping me away, like a stain... until... until I was nothing. Ha-Hahahaa... I-I know that sounds crazy but I swear... but I swear..."

"I swear I'm not going anywhere." If there's anything I've spoken before this truthfully... anything at all... oh, Umbre... I'm not. I'm not! Right here, if it must be. Right here.

We sit in place, and we don't go anywhere. I stay close, pulling my face into his neck and nuzzling myself there... letting his pain fall on top of me. _Plip... plip... plip... plip._ He asks me things in a voice so soft and gentle I hardly knew he had it, he asks me if I'm mad at him that he chose me over our child, if I hate him for that. I let him ask these things and all kinds of scary, scary thoughts I try to realize were truly going through his head when I... wasn't around. I don't answer any of them; I stay. That's all he wanted, I think. Me to listen, to care. I think now that I'm here, it's come obvious to him that I would never do these things. And why would I? He's... my darling Umbre. I love him. I _love_ him.

Eventually another voice permeates in our thoughts and our loving and _very personal_ embrace. Stupid pleb. "Ah, what a touching and romantic reunion. Mind if I join?"

I peep an eye open and snort. "Yes."

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that." It's a brown guy... broomstick tail thick and hefty, furry body. Fluffy like old Stella. He's got golden eyes and some sort of lightning bold pendant to boot.

Umbre as well peeks at the fluffy creature. I can feel the sigh at the top of my head. "Why couldn't Zoey or someone have ruined the moment? Why a stranger? Darn. Espa, maybe we should leave."

It's here that Nayomi giggles.

"Oh, dear! I am _no_ stranger. Dear goodness, how rude. In fact I'm one of Stella's _rather close friends_. The name... is There. Yes, shut up, it's weird. Personally I think Herb got the weird name. Whatever." His big snout twitches. "And don't stare at me like that. We've been cleaning up after you dummies for however long now. Stella wanted us to help out... I guess. Hunh... we helped out already. Now come along, let's go find Llana and... save the world. Or whatever."

"Well you're rude. One more moment?" mumbles Umbre. But he's looking at me when he speaks, so I sort of shrug and stay there.

And it's here, once more, that the child giggles.

"Come onnnnnn! You're almost doooone! I promise after this I'll leave your sorry butts alone. But let's go for now... pleaaaase!" His fur is all twitchy. There's fur, that is. Oh, what a strange name. I shake my head.

Gently poking at my mate, I whisper, "Is it okay if we go save the world and _then_ come back to this? Apparently we're almost done. And I'm sure Qua.. ahhh, what did you say his name was? Marshall?" Amused little nod. "Marshall. I'm sure he's got a plan. So _come on_. Just a little longer, okay, darling?"

With a snort, he follows. "But after this, we're going back home. I don't even care where it is, so long as I'm with you. Okay? And if it's too dangerous or you grow too woozy, we're coming right back here and ignoring this whole thing. You got it? No more death. No more." His gaze is sharp and angry... it makes me giggle, it's kinda cute...

So onward we go, with There the strange fluffy entity and Nayomi by our sides, the little girl skipping about us in mad fits of childish giggles.

 _Llana_

Cheeka's the first to complain. "Oh! _Now_ you show up?"

As sweet as she is... w-well... she _is_ bipolar...

"My _goodness_ , Cheeka, dear, you have no idea how much offense I take to that." The deep, dark purple orbs of a certain fluffy one contract and go back upon me. There is an amused snort. "Anyways I think I'll make chitchat with Llana if you're going to be in such a mood. So Llana! Dear girl, how have you been! It's very nice to see you again, oh, very nice! I'm happy to know you're alright!" With a grin, she strides toward me. "But let's keep moving, please. We have places to be, after all. Quagsire must be waiting," she adds, and onward we go.

Cheeka's still... angry. I-I don't blame her. If Stella had... shown earlier... per...perhaps Ember would still be... Auhhh... I-I don't know, though. I-I-It's only one speculation. Per...Personally, I'm just... I'm just happy... right now. I-I should be sad and crying and thinking of them, too, m-maybe, but I... can't help it. _Stella_. I'm... happy.

The fluffy white entity doesn't ask of Ember, and why he isn't by the panpour at this time. I-I suppose it's... obvious. Or maybe they... found the... corpse or something. I-I don't know. I'm not them. Nervous, twitchy, I pull my fingers together in front of me, mumbling, "A-Ah... yes, it's very nice... to... to see you aga-ain..!" How do I tell her I missed her and wished she was here? O-Ouuf... Yes, Marshall kept us safe but... but... ah, wait.

"Stella?"

"Why yes, Llana?"

"Quagsire isn't his name anymore. He... he goes by Marshall now. He told us... that he's immortal, and he... I guess... wanted to change and... put bad memories behind." I blush, staring at the earth. "So... so he's Marshall now."

"I see." Small smile. She's looking away then. Ah...

Stuttering, I look back again. "Um... um... is that a good thing?" I... I don't know. I'm just grabbing anything and everything I can to toss at her so I can hear her voice once more, and I can be sure that this is all real.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure that's a very good thing." A nod, and there is silence again. Can she feel my disappointment? Oh please no. This is... this is all so embarrassing. "Have you been alright, Llana? I'm sure this is quite the experience to take in, especially all at once like so... Ulf." She puffs out her chest, as if angry about something long ago. " _I_ didn't want you to go through with this. Nor did... Gerald."

It's quiet.

Gerald is dead now. Like Ember, like F and Gaurdio and everyone else. Gerald is dead now, and has been longer than any of them. Just before... I left.

As if curious to the whereabouts of the words Stella has yet to say, Cheeka's bright orbs turn with her face as she pulls back to the rest of us. There's still small wrinkles of bunched-up anger... but holes don't get stitched together that quickly, and wrinkles don't smooth that easily. I... I know that. I know that... very, very well, now. What is the pin that holds me together? How do I keep myself going..?

Maybe... it's the thought that... um...  
Embarrassed, I rub, just a little, at my neck, then.

Elijah's neck was hurt, when he... left... but also...

The fluffy one yawns. "It's a boring story." The panpour and I lock eyes upon her, because _no_ it is _not_ a boring story. Stella smirks. "Whatever. I guess you won't let me off now, eh?" She pauses, musing, tongue over her lip. Then release. "Once upon a time, there were fluffy creatures and the fluffy creatures had a great long story about their own lives, but that doesn't have to do with this particular story, so I'll skip all the exposition.

"One of the little fluffy creatures found herself a Truught and eventually found herself a snivy. He had a mustache the color of her fur. As far as she knew, snivies weren't supposed to be like that. And so they decided to be together." Cheeka mutters something about bad ideas.

Stella instead goes on without haste. "He was a strange snivy. Mostly because of the mustache, but also because of his sour personality. Yes, very sour. He hated things and liked to talk far too long about these things that he hated. Now he didn't hate his much, very, _much_ younger sister—in fact she was one of the few things he loved—although he did hate her choice for a mate. Either way the parents were killed and he ended up stuck with a strange little snivy not so unlike him.

"He couldn't quite hate the snivy, because she was his sister's daughter, but he didn't know if he loved her as this was also his sister's mate's daughter, and he hated that lad."

A great intake of breath. "What fun we had." And a smile. A patient, kind, and understanding smile, one that accepts time's changes and yet won't change itself.

"Either way," she murmurs, tossing her head, "Neither of us wished for her fate of doing dangerous things and killing other things so we sort of ran amok without care. Cheeka, stop glaring." Cheeka doesn't stop glaring. "So what if I don't care about Llana's Sweethot capabilities and less about Tim's... Bittercold?"

"Stop calling them those stupid names," mutters the panpour in question.

Stella, unruffled, pats a bit as my head as we move. _Fump_ , go her big, fluffy feet: _fump, fump, fump, fump_. Like an impact on the world that may be forgotten by us, but never by the earth below. Like the asking when one wishes to be remembered. She smiles demurely toward me, purple orbs glistening, thoughtful.

"In conclusion," she says, yawning, "I decided to watch over Llana. And good dear old Marshall helped me, as he is a good dear old Marshall." Snort. Roll of the eyes. "And now we save the world, I guess." The flick of her ears speaks of how much she doesn't care. Just how much.

The psychic's pale and blue fur bristles, but she stays in her place, mutters something else about "stupid Stella."

And so we go on.

Strangely... when I look up... it's almost as if the layers upon layers upon layers of soft, fluffy, vengeful clouds have begun to peel away in spots. The volcano smog and the rainy stormclouds have lifted themselves and dissipated. Ready to give up on their hatred, ready to start again: only somewhere new.

The sky is... simple.

Big. Bright. Blue.

And therefore, it is perfect. I smile stupidly. Perfect.

 **And why is it perfect? Do you think it's perfect? XD I don't blame you, hahaha...**

 **this chapter was a little simpler. It makes me regret having not mentioned the fluffy ones prior in the story... or having forgotten to add much intentional foreshadowing, pbb... though I guess you could interpret them throughout the story if you wanted? I think there are a few signs that could... TTwTT Oh the life of a writer. If this story were to be published, I'd be sure to add more of the foreshadowing for sure, though. Haha. You learn something new every day...**

 **Anyways! Less saddening Starry thoughts! Two chapters left! What's gonna happen! Bum bum! Not to mention Zoey's creepy mentions of noble deaths... bum bum bummm, what might it meaaaan? Bum bummmmmm**

 **Tim: you sob**

 **Me: sad timothy oh poor timothy**

 **Tim: …**

 **(honestly these little AN things have tossed him so out of his character xD)**


	24. of Pain and Joy?

Chapter 24: ...of Pain and Joy?

 _Zoey_

 _Shhhhfff... shnnnf... shnnnf... shoooooooofh..._

Pulling back of leaves and branches, the scraping like clawing hands about me, another piling of the pieces and pulling, pulling, and the clearing makes itself known. Pouting then, I pat at my cheeks: yep. Cuts. Sticky cuts. Bits of blood, not that much. All that hard work and it's freaking empty now. Empty... slowly I lift my hand, red lines lacing down it, from my cheek, and place it to my stomach. Then up a little: my chest. And what's inside too.

It's like my lungs and heart and everything, it's all pumping, pumping, _pushing_ outside. Not pulling in, together, no, push, push, push. And man, it kind of hurts. Just sitting here, thinking about it, man, it _aches_. I chew some at my lip. Old broomstick pal There, dusty and brown, sashays in front of me, surveys a little. Then Tim goes past me, and because duh, I follow.

 _Kff... kff, kff..._ My mouth hurts a little, too... I guess from bunching it up so much. But to wring it out, to form a smile at this time... h-heh. That wouldn't be no smile. Just some once-beautiful thing... now not much more than a lot of broken pieces. Or dead flowers... dead roses...

So airy, this clearing. Suddenly stuffed with all kinds of senseless hope, I go shoving my eyes around the place, around the trees and the dark grass and the stench and—and—come on—no—not that—auhhhhh... darn.

Tim's orbs clip over mine: we share a look.

No Llana. Not yet.

But of course There doesn't share our worries. I mean, now that I think about it, there's a couple things much bigger than a tiny blob of light scales in this area... and now that I'm not focusing on _her_ , all these fun little friends just sharpen right up into focus. The brown creature shuffles in front of us, his snout bunching all up together and his teeth baring back some. Just strips. Shiny strips of white. A soft growl suggesting everyone in front look out. Like a ring, the fur about his neck puffs and entwines.

A hot slice of shadow cuts across the path in front of him. Our friend There shoulders this off like one would a sneeze, hopping forward and springing into motion. One glance and I decide I'm not following that big dummy to wherever he's going: oh, man, how I _wish_ my feet worked like that. Then of course Tim doesn't wait either, because duh, and his black-furred body goes off into the blackness, dissolved into the night...

I rub at my stray cheek. Drop my other hand to my side. One small, squeaky breath, a push at my legs, and I guess then I'm off too, off to be doused by smoke and fogs and fabrics of black that carpet everything with its flaky, forgetful touch. Sneeze, sneeze—splutter—run.

Hrrrrrh. It's so dark in here! Uhg... I'm... I'm growing tired of all this, guys! Strive and struggle... and struggle again... I mean, come on, was it really necessary, all this night... all this... all this... oof. A puff of air streams from my lips and I stop in the shadows, sigh. No one can see me. Can't find me.

A weight shuffles around on my back. But... but I'm used to it by now. Yeah... it's tiring to carry it around, but I'm used to it by now. I've been used to it. Used to it for a... very... very long time.

Nn—ulhk! Now isn't the time to sit down and shut up... come on, Zoey... It kinda messes with me at the knees, but somehow or another I do pull myself up, and as I blink through the shades and shades of hazy black and gray. Some form of pattern begins forming itself in my head. The bits that aren't quite full of themselves reveal a winding little trail, you know, the one I should probably be walking on. And though there are a few tree roots here and there, I make it a bit farther okay. I'm... doing something. Doing something alright...

Okay, okay. One big breath of stale air, exhale, move on. I'll just walk slowly so I don't trip too hard, whenever that trip will be. Man... something crazy must be hiding beneath all these clouds... something crazy... something scary, even. And Llana mustn't be here yet, or... well. I mean. My fingers clasp into fists but I can't hold all this darkness in.

Tim and There must be around here somewhere. Not too far ahead, surely, but in front of me, just out of my freaking plane of sight. Rubbing at my eyes makes me feel like I'll be able to see them now, though obviously that doesn't help with anything. Ulh... A part of me really wants to turn back. To wait for Llana. It's so... dark in here...

Nnnh! There you go again! Stop that! Forwards is the only direction allowed at this time—well. Until the path loops around and I have to loop around with it. But that doesn't count: no steps back. No turning away. My heart thuds with each step in my chest, the air around me's growing increasingly hard to intake, but I have to keep going. Just move on anyways. Ahead... ahead are all kinds of things. And I'm not quite sure what, not yet... but no turning back. None.

I'm plodding along as the sound of soft hoof-prints shuffles just ahead. Because I'm an idiot who doesn't think, immediately I call, "Hey! Heeeeeey! Who's that up aheaaaaaaaad!"

Of course I take a few moments to remember that if this was an enemy...

But then, after another good few thumps in my chest, another voice, and then a face, turns to meet mine. "Umm..? Zoey... Zoey, would that be you? Ah! So I'm no longer alone in here! What a relief!"

The faintest of glows zips around an angular little face. Her rich green fur ripples in just the right places, kind purple eyes waiting for me in turn. Aahh... preening, thoughtful tone and just the right touch of anticipation.

"Vivi?" I squeak. "Oh... ah! Hi, Vivi! Oh man! _What_ a relief, right! I-I was so scaaaared!"

"Um... Zoey? Pray could you lower your voice a li—"

"I was! It was! AUUUUUH! It was SO DARK and I couldn't find ANYONE! A-AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE LLANA IS! N-NOT HERE, THAT'S FOR SURE!"

"ZO-ZO—"

"S-SO THANKS, VIVI! I-IT'S REALLY NICE TO SEE YOU AGAI—"

 _Splurrrrshhhhh._

It takes me a moment to register the missing flesh in one of my arms. Then the pain kicks in; hissing through my teeth I shove my fingers into my lips and dart towards Vivi and shove random bursts of water from my lifting toes in the vain attempt to... to... I-I don't know, I'm scared. Panic, breath, breath, panic, fear, throbbing, head, hurts, hurts... deep breath... come on... come on. And release.

A vine cracks into the air and snags whatever just got me good. Sure, my arm stings... but whatever that... floating thing was... And as it swims closer, swooning through the air, floating above us, a waft of decay, rancid and awfully sweet, like mold, pulls in.

I gag. Vivi hisses under her breath, snags another vine. Leaves ripple amongst us, charge like our hopes and dreams into the hide of whatever that thing is and while its rapidly-fouling figure does go _sssthk, sssthk_ with each impacted leaf... I-I mean. It's still moving. Still hobbling, wobbling, I don't even know how or why but that smell is up my nose, down my throat, and on my lips.

There's pink. It's faint, and smeared in all kinds of crud, but I swear, just in bits, there is a hue of pink on this figure. Voluminous and floating, the stench of decay, dripping its droplets of recently-pulled blood—my arm throbs in sympathy. Pink. We... we once knew someone very, very pink... didn't we? Y-Yeah... now it... now it wasn't one of our friends, say, but... there was someone...

Oh. Ouhhhf... A small breath falls from me as I... I remember something. I remember another corpse, not very much unlike this one, almost alive, seemingly alive, sure inside of a great monstrous muk but that corpse... It was purple, that one. Fat and purple. A feline. But... this isn't the first time that... that... w-well..!

Vivi's hooves pull me backwards; her body she pushes forward. The toss of a horned head, of kicks and swings and leaves flying like confetti, like some sort of morbid celebration, the sounds of _splurt_ and _sqsshhh_ echoing... I swallow. Shiver a little... try to lift myself and fall back down. Ouhh... my arm aches... I peel my other hand from my lips, inspect my arm... ouuhh. Sure enough there's a messy wound, bulging and gushing with a certain sticky liquid. But it's... it's not _too_ serious or anything.

I smile wide and fearfully into the night.

Not too serious. Oh, not yet. Aahhh, no, not yet, not yet...

There is hissing, there is anger, there is a sharp screech of hurting and the pink thing goes away. Where? I don't know. I don't care. Away from us, that's where. Vivi, while breathing heavily, coated in her string of light—she's alright. Nothing serious, just some scrapes. We share one big look at the rip in my arm. She nudges her head some. I groan... breath, breath, attempt moving i—"AAAAAIIHHHH!"

Okay. Okay. Let's _not_ do that again. Oh, no. No, not again. Whimpering, unable to scuff it, I stare and hiccup at the blackness surrounding me, Vivi lifting herself closer, pushing her creamy face into mine. She murmurs something soft and Vivi-like, probably trying to comfort me: whatever it is, I miss every syllable. There's the faint imprint of it in my head... some deliberation...

Probably because it'll save her energy, she goes against outright healing and knitting my missing... muscle or whatever it is... back in one piece. A new vine this time, gentle and strong, tied like some splint, keeping my arm in place. I wave it around like a wing; it doesn't hurt so bad; and release. And moving on.

"Wot! Dear _goodness_ , that screaming cacophony of _females_! Please do tell me our predicament!"

Oh hey. Guess who's back. I scoot closer to my virizion friend, peeking back at stupid brown There from behind. He's still got his snout wrinkled, lip curled. The shuffling of steps suggests Tim's nearby too. Gee. Great.

I'm so tired... of holding all this weight... this entire world on my shoulders... When do I get to drop it all? When... when does it get better?

When do I... see Llana... and not feel this stab of guilt in my gut? It'll... will it stop? A frightful grin on my face. Oof... when will my _smiles_ get better? What _is_ this Joy again?

A-Aaaaaahahahaha... hhhhahh... ahh...

It's determined I shouldn't be talking, cuz Vivi just launches right in. "Oh... well, do you recall the munna we met at one time ago? She and Darkie... and well, all of that." My friend coughs. "I must say that I think we ran into her very living corpse. Therefore..."

A wince in the bushels.

Hi, Tim.

Just faintly, I can still catch a glimpse of Bay's scales... so... oh, good, he's still... safe. Still—I choke—still alive. S-Still okay.

"Yeah, yeah. Tis simple: therefore, more monsters. Frightful and further unrealistic ones. Therefore, we're almost done. I'm sure Quagsire... I get the feeling he's ahead somewhere, up with our old pal Darkie. What a nitwit, he. Therefore... ah, we just gotta pull the plug~" With a smug little look, There raises a hind leg and scratches at his back.

Vivi's nodding, only... slowly, and slower, and slower, until she eventually stops, staring blankly ahead. "Yes... 'pull the plug,' as you so put it." Her forehead scrunches, not unlike my frowns and There's snout. "I'm... I'm so relieved that, well, as you so put it, soon we will drain ourselves of all... this. Soon it should end, soon there will be such relief, such... ah! It is well! Ah, it is well with my soul...

"But I can't help and worry." Slow swallow. "Nothing can be summed up so easily, no? It's not like we're popping open a hole in the earth, this a vacuum that then consumes all of our struggles and bottles it up, just like so." Breath.

" 'sirree. Very true, ye." Another casual back scratch. "I don't think nothin' can be condemned by something so easy. But it's a good way to start, eh? We will be setting back our odds... pulling back that pendulum, at least beginning to end its slow fade to gray. One way..." He continues scratching. And then he's scratching so hard it's kind of weirdly feeling wrong to talk in the way of him, so we're silent for a time.

And There, lowering his foot, murmurs, "Wot a thought. Man... Stell's so happy about all of this. Ye mortals are easily ideas of emotion for her... weirdo." A shake of the head, and we all go on. Vivi, There, Tim, Bay, and me.

His wounds have been closing. Closing like... what we're gonna do to... all of this turd in the air, in the world... in... in Death Central! It's a funny thought. I think it now, and I realize... in a weird way, wasn't this what I've been wanting to do... this entire time? Take Llana's soft, scaly hand and lead us both into a world with less pain, a little more hope?

Why I started Paradise... I mean, right there, right then. I mean... it was a whole other reason at first. Heck, _someone else_ was with me before Llana. But... but he's long, long gone now. And I love Llana. Yes. I love Llana. And I think... in some way or form... though she can't hardly tell, what with everything else going on in her head... I think she _loves_ me too.

I aim my grimace like a stone at the back of Tim's head.

Everything's changed. Or, I thought it all did. Our problems doubled back. Tim tried to kill everyone, now he wants the opposite. Munaah and Darkie... they're almost the same. Maybe scarier, a little different, but all the same, almost the same. And Llana's... been with me this entire time.

If only I deserved her. If only I could hold all this weight on my shoulders, if only I could break like her and come back greater because of it, if only I was strong and wrestled with it but held it, held it like Tim. Softly I laugh. If only, if only. My giggles grow louder. If only... I bite the sob back into my mouth.

Things have changed. Not everything, but... I still...

I thought I had her... I thought I _had her_...

It comes back to me, when my dearest Llana in all of her beauty cracked once more, looking at me and whispering that it was her fault, all _her fault_ , and how I broke in turn, just shattered at the sight of such a despicable thing... a sweet little snivy scuffed in dirt, eyes swollen and red, shivering, empty. So empty. And then I felt empty... I-I wish I could do something... _I wish I could do something_...

No matter.

This weight... I'm going to keep shouldering it. Even though I know I can't hold it. I will anyways. It'd be nice if Llana came... and saw me... just once again... but... but it's okay. I understand. If she can't, I understand.

Swallow.

I don't want it. I don't want to. But I do.

I understand...

From ahead, Tim pushes another sigh. I pull back, gaze on the ground. Our thrumming footsteps, the strange near-harmony of the moment, the blackness, I see then, thinning around as we finally... finally... oh, oh... oh. Voices. There's already voices in the area. The high-pitched squeal of children, the burning passion of a certain pair, the hesitant murmur of a recovered keldeo... a thoroughly weakened and yet powerful little bagon... the orchestra thrumming, the harmony—the conductor above it all. A warble of musical hums and calls and onwards.

And the end. Oh, gosh. I just look out from this hazy blackness to this less-hazy gray, like fog, and I can tell through the gushes of blood and cries that this is it. This is... this is _it._ And there are all kinds of figures in this fight. There's Espa and Umbre, just over there, feline bodies pushed together, their energy pulsating like a heartbeat... the children—one of them on Kyo's back and the other following Marshall gallantly. Their squeals—their strange bout of glee in the moment.

Jen's got her braids tied up behind her, and her face is a mess of tears and snot and cuts and dirt but she releases her fingers and sends a great beam of destruction to all that comes in front of her. She's shaking. Horribly. But she's... she's... she's here.

The hush goes down upon us. Nobody asks about the froslass.

And this is it. Here... here is the end. Immediately There charges through our throng, intercepting this green fluffy creature who really resembles him—oh, duh, one of Stella's friends—as the duo raises themselves and strikes whatever foggy _thing_ goes at them.

Like the guests of a party, we disperse into heavily-colored light air. Altogether, all apart, my arm hardly moving yet moving hard all the same, water zapped into any and all monsters about me, the charge in the air... this is it, this is it. I'm breathing heavily. The weight I've been holding... it's deafening. It hurts. Everything is so... so slow, and yet spinning by rapidly. And it hurts. It aches. I want to stop I want to stop I want—I can't. Her soft, sad face... I have to... I have to... _Llana_...

So onward.

I'm... not strong. Not like Marshall, not like Darkie. Not like Mary or even anything near Espa or Umbre. I don't go so high as that, no... the bottom. I think that's where I am. But even still these undead things and black matters, they all fall beneath my stead. So I... I have something. Nowhere... near... my lovely Llana... but something, something, and that's better than nothing at all. Y-Yes. To some extent I'm useful, to some extent I can... save her... maybe not much but... but something, something. I hold onto this sensation and plow through the vengeful creatures, because I won't let them hurt her, I won't let them ruin her entrance, her smile, her heart... not again, ne-nevermore.

It's easier then. The weight upon me... is light. I keep these thoughts circling in my head, I think about her and about light and all kinds of beautiful things, and I plow through this sea of hatred. I am the boat, I am the paddles, I am the one within. And I... will churn through these waves. So onward, onward indeed. Indubitably, if I do say so myself... hah.

We were all so innocent back then. Repeating a word as large and as silly as that—indubitably. Yes. But it was... it was our thing, a Paradise thing. And it makes me laugh, just thinking... oh, moments like these. I collect them, diamonds, gems, jewels, more precious than precious metals and stored in a place where they will never be touched by evil hands.

Beauty... ah. I believe in a beauty, a beauty in this world... one that's been gone for all too long. The little smile of a little snivy returns to my gaze, and it doesn't matter if I pummel someone's face in or so many more, it doesn't matter how tired I am, how tired I was. Small and pale and sweet, to the extent of even... angelic... Llana. I believe in a beauty... and now...

There is a cry. A voice, a voice full of pain and loss. And it's a very real voice. "Auh!" And it's nearby. I go darting after it, swooping through the chains and throngs of evil hands and pulling against them, because they can't push me. Each step I take sinks the weight through me, pushing it down upon me, but I pull through, I pull through.

Now I protect this beauty... I keep her safe and safe she will be...

The cry is deep and raspy, bleeding out, or maybe about to at this very moment. It's a voice that will be ended in a few short seconds, and if I do nothing about it, this voice will go out. Forever. And that's no good... because if _this voice goes out_... no, that's no good, no good at all. The deep and raspy voice shudders out again, and I leap... I leap and I fly...

Safe she will be... oh, always will be...

Safe she will be...

 _SPLORTT!CHHHHHHHhHhhhhhhghggg!_

Safe she will be... as I will protect her with my life.

 _Tim_

Ah... ah... ah.

A quick and furious slash upon the sky ends the reign of monsters upon me.

Slowly a hand fingers about my neck. No. Oh. No, there is no cut there, and there is no gash. My throat has not imploded, and therefore I live. Oh. Ohhh... the pressure building up in me suddenly and stupidly crumbles back to dust. I rub at my face, somewhat smeared in my own blood... and I glance back at the dunsparce lying further back on the ground. His breaths are bigger. He is... safe. Oh, still.

 _Ahh... ahh... ahh... ahh..._

They were going to kill me, weren't they? Yes. Creatures I crafted from my own fingers and claws and lifeless sensations, creatures that were once mine... Pah. I'm practically mortal. Practically... mortal. But oh... is that not a bad thing. No. It means... means...

 _Ahh... ahh... ahh... ahh..._

It means...

 _Aaaahhh... hhhhhaahhhh... hhhhhhg... gghhhh... hhhhhhhhh.._.

Oh. And then it hits me.

Oh god.

If I'm not dead then—

A turn and the blood hits me and I yell.

"ZOEY!"

She's the biggest fucking retard I have ever met in my life. My eyes build up then—without control—in tears.

"ZOEY! DAMMIT! ZOEY, DAMMIT! DAMMIT! GAAHHHhh!"

I'm yelling my lungs out. Yelling my heart out. Fucking retard, fucking retard. Her neck, it's in shambles, that tiny, precious little lily of a plant of a neck, so fragile and now thoroughly smashed. Bits of slick, red liquid fan about it. She's slumped to the ground, her limbs limply strewn about her—one of them wrapped in that vine... and I know, oh, dammit, I know, this fucking retard will never be able to get up again.

More yelling. Panting. Crying. Yelling. Then a whisper. But through my beat and broken warble I realize she's been trying to talk all along. Dammit. Fucking retard... retard...

The words don't connect, even with my silence. So I... I lean closer to her burbling breath, to the volcano within her now expunged of its heat. Bits of red splatter my cheeks. I stare, faithlessly, horribly, at this _idiot_. And I'm shaking.

But finally I can hear her. F-Finally. I nearly sob at the sound of that _pathetic_ _whimper_ of hers...

"Hey... Tim... Ti-iimm... Tim..." Breath, breath. There's hardly a voice attached to her breaths. She's panting so rapidly, her face a mess... snot and bits of dirt, some cuts, some bruises... silky clear tears. D-Dammit. "Tim, can... cann... y-ouuh... ouhh... hee-eaa...rr... me..? Uh...hgggg.." Even her coughs are so soft and... sweet.

I'd kill her if she wasn't already dying. She's so... so...

When I nod, albeit reluctant, she goes on. Quickly. "Ti-Tiim... im... uhh... Tim. Umm... I... you—you need... ne-eed to... to... _live_... F-Foor... her... her... o-okaa..yyhh?"

Pause.

"D-Dammit... Da-Dammit... Zoey." Angry, I wipe at my cheek. Shaking. I miss. Nearly stab my eye. "Dammit, Zoey! DAMMIT!" She has yet to flinch. I want her to flinch. "DAMMIT, ZOEY! YOU FUCKHEAD! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THERE FOR HER! YOU BITCH! DAMMIT, ZOEY, DAMMIT!"

All over again I'm breathing hard—but then her lips are moving, so I try to snuff out my simper. "Ti-Tiim... no... ouhh... no.. no... you and... she... you're... you're..." An awful, uncanny light flickers in her gaze. "You..rrrrehh... dii—ii-viiiinee... bo-oth... of... of... of you. Diihh...viiiine..." And her fingers entwine on her far-apart hands. As if to suggest... I swallow.

"Zoey. She loves you. She needs you." She's going to ask me to kill her when she sees this. She'll beg me to kill her, so she can see Zoey again. There's... there is no way in hell she'd... she'd... Z-Zoey... you _bitch_... why didn't you let me die? Maybe Llana would still... stand a chance... with all of this disconnection... this mess we call Tim... this mess of mine...

"Well..." She's coughing. Hacking. Some... horrible... ugly attempt at laughter. "I-IIii gue...ssss.. thennns... it... it... it'sss syourr... turn...nnnow... and youu... ha-aave to... watch... o-ovoverr her... for uss..."

We're both crying.

I hate you. I hate you, Zoey.

No. No, I hate _me_. Breathing heavily.

Shaking my head, I mutter, "It shouldn't be that way. It shouldn't."

She murmurs, "It i-iis... it is... Ti-Tim... and she... she... you... you're..." Frantically she tosses a hand, a hand that somehow, miraculously for seconds she regained control of, in the direction of a resting dunsparce.

Oh... god...

I don't know... I don't know what to say. I'm shaking so badly. I... I don't know what to say. Why the hell was she paying attention to _that_? To everything I... why? Why follow me around and act like you hate me when this entire time...

Envy... and Love... are such cruel siblings...

Very nearly, lips parting, I try and I try to tell her thank you—when she raises her hand again. And it's clung in the air. And I realize then, no, that can't... be her. It's as if some other hand... is tied about her wrist, and moving this. But—but! There's still light in Zoey's dull blue gaze! There's something left! So she's still there! So who—

Oh... God, save me... oh, no...

"Ti-iimm..? Mi...na... sa-aaayys hi."

Another sob escapes me. I wrap my fingers, tightly, about me. She can see them, can't she, that bit of light still reflected in her eyes, it reflects, just for a moment, the figure out a slender yellow girl who I killed a time ago.

But then Zoey's other hand is lifted. And waggled, as if in a wave toward me. "Aaaan-nnd... say hi.. t-o... to... Burr. Ti-immm... say hi-ii... sayyyh... hi..."

I cover my face.

I've never cried... this hard... in my life. I've hardly cried before... and this is a storm. A storm inside of me, tearing me from piece to piece to piece from the inside out. Slowly I'm... losing control. Losing myself. And it fucking hurts. Everything hurts... da-dammit...

"Tii-mmm... Tim... Tim... they're... they're..." Oh god. "They're... they...rrehh..." What are they, what are they. "Proud." No. "Prou...dd.. offhhh.. you. Tim." No. No. No. _No_. "Annnddh... they'ree... haa...pyy for... for youuh.. Tim. Tim. They..." No. "They..." _No_. "Loveeh... you... Tim." NO!

I'm whispering. Whispering horrible little words. "Fu-Fuck you... fuck you... s-stop it... stop it, please..."

For a moment, just a single moment, there is this horrible, horrible silence that makes me think Zoey is dead now. But as I peel back my hands from my face, it's not she but the sky... the heavens... which have spilled open... spilled over... and glossed the world with a strange, strange beauty...

I'm breathing hard... or hardly breathing, I can't tell. My throat has been cried out raw. I still shake. Badly.

"They... misss yuuuh... Timm... bu-uht... they... forig-giivh.. yuouh... Aaannd..." Ahh... Zoey. Z-Zoey... "They... louuvvh... youh."

As the sun hits the earth, and as the last bits of fog clear, I swear, I _swear_ , I catch sight of the brown and tall timburr not unlike me, and the smile of a peachy-and-yellow mienfoo beside him. Their hands they keep clasped... the others now dropping Zoey's limp fingers.

They all disappear as the blue stain of a very certain oshawott joins.

And I sink into the earth. And I stay there, for some time. Shaking. Just... crying. To her. To Llana. To me. To us all.

Llana... must be here by now. While we all... were down here... she and Marshall, I don't know, something... they must have gotten to her, to Darkie, whatever...

It must be finished. It is finished... I stare at Zoey's corpse... it is finished...

When I lift a hand to roll her eyelids over, I'm caught with my heart lodged in my throat. For my fur... is no longer black, no longer that slinky, horrible black. Nor is it gray, as it is at times, either. No... naught but... but...

this creamy... light... chestnut brown...

I stare, breathless, for a time, before I recall my original task. And as I lift myself and turn away from the body, I wipe back the last of my tears, and I whisper,

"Thank you..."

 **Goodbye, Zoey... and hello, Tim. Heh. The end is fast approaching... although the next chapter, as it is the last, might be kind of long.**

 **Holy heck... this series that I started three years ago... finally I'll have it finished... oh my gosh... TTwTT**

 **I've had that scene, Zoey's death, planned for a very long time... ever since I was first writing pmd1, and for some odd childish reason planning the whole trilogy, I knew Zoey would die for Tim in the end. Sure, Tim was a very different character, but the whole thing behind it... none of this has really changed. But it still chokes me up some... heh...**

 **Well? Would you have rather Zoey died or Tim? Heh... if you wanna answer that. Haha...**

 **One more chapter... what a feeling...**


	25. Revelations

Chapter 25: Revelations

It's... hard to remember... exactly what happened, and what happened when, and how it occurred in the beginning. My fingers ache from such prolonged clenching... but all the same I'm sure these fists weren't used against anyone, well, anyone other than myself—my mind. To try and find determination, something, within me. Anything. Right?

My heart thumps and thumps hard in my chest... like even so, nothing has ended, nothing will. My head... pounds. Like rocks. Rocks thrumming against my ribcage, rocks soaring through my skull. But nobody sees these rocks: of course, only I feel them. And they don't leave much of a physical impact. But I am shaking. If nothing else, I am shaking.

A... little cold. A little bit.

Stella, teeth drawn, shakes out her fluffy head, snorts. The fur that was sticking on end begins the slow process of flattening itself: her cottony white self returns to its grace, albeit somewhat rumpled. Her lilac orbs offer a haughty stare to the one beside us. "So it's Marshall now. Why Marshall? That's so confusing... first it was some unknown name given by a family you must not remember by this point, then the ridiculous Sir Ton, then nameless again... No really, why Marshall?" A huff; a snort.

"Mmmmm." The quagsire by her side rolls his eyes. "I like Mmmmarshall. Also, as a bonus, it mmmmmatches with Mmmmary. Which I think is immmmmportant," he goes off, then, batting toward the horizon with a floppy hand.

"Oh, dear. Mary won't recognize you. Your name's different. She'll think someone killed you and took your place."

A gasp, a hand on the chest, a fake attempt at looking insulted. "And who's to say I'mmmm not?"

"Shut up." Stella grimaces some, her tail flickering behind her. "Let's deal with your ire later. I think we still have a ragtag team to recollect and reconcile with. You know... make sure nobody's gone off and died while we were busy. Plus... I don't know, There might be lonely." Pause. "Ooh. Or Herb. Yes... yes, let's go now." And like that she struts on.

Marshall reaches for my face with his, the laughter building up in his eyes. "Her tongue's getting sourer n' sourer by the day. Soon enough, she'll be Gerald, mmmh?"

"Shush, you. I heard that."

Pause. "You know that only further proves mmmmy point." And maybe because she's tired of him, or maybe because she stopped caring, but either way Stella doesn't raise her barbed lips in conflict again. My dear friend keeps herself ahead of us as we move, but not too far. Just footsteps away, an arm's length forward... so close.

With their settling, I whisper, "Did anyone else come? Or was it just you... and There, and Herb?"

"Well..." Pause. "They didn't quite understand my attachment to such a world, a highly-mortal world in a highly-mortal scheme of things. So no. Just us. Although my father didn't mind so much... at least I don't _think_ he did... mmmmh."

"I bet he did."

"Marshall."

"I'mmm just sayin'~"

"I would much appreciate it if you stopped 'just saying'."

Oh, how on it goes... and on it goes. Life's wheel turning, the quiet serenity nigh baffling in comparison to the storm that was just here. Air breathable, open and clear... I suppose I don't need it, but I feel like I do. And it's nice, just having it. From somewhere just ahead, the tall and angular green figure of a certain single virizion forms itself, and just by it lies a more cream and smaller one.

When I lift a hand and wave, their heads bobble. Acknowledgment. Good... good. They trot toward us, slowly, purposefully, their hooves softly shifting with the soil beneath. Ungrounded. Like all of us, everything. But... oh, but they've come this far. They've... made it. Vivi, somber grin and all, takes her place by one side, Kyo straying just by her. His shy, glassy blue eyes dart toward me, then over Marshall, then like a deep breath they close. And then open again.

With a weak and battered yet living murmur, Vivi leans in: "Is that... did we..?" She trails off. Her face is a mess of feelings. Broken, healing, sprayed and flattened. Breathless and breathable.

Stella's pearly white fur shivers in a small batch of wind. "Why, yes. I believe we did." By far she displays the most strength in the moment. The most upheld feeling and relative calmness. Strong lilac orbs mirror Vivi's cracked and living. "I believe... we did."

More footsteps. As they approach, our silence peaks, as if to speak would blow away the hushed murmur of survivors. After Vivi and Kyo came Espa and Umbre: another duo, alive and healthy, or as healthy as they will be in such a time, such a place. Espa's one lavender ear sticks to her head in a mess of blood, the other one just about decimated. Her mate's caring gaze, red like roses, red like love, threads over this, his ebony paw patting at her one remaining ear. Some of the dried, caked blood loosens. Her head twitches. He sneezes; and then she does too.

"I'm... um." The espeon swallows; the ruby betwixt her eyes shimmers weakly. "I'm... okay. We think that I'm alright now." Shallow breaths, deep breaths. "S-Sorry." Umbre's thick and languid nodding; his corroboration suggests a slim if no error. There is peace, peace stricken in their faces. A strange sort of estranged sort of peace, but still a peace indeed.

Quiet again. Then another footfall, this softer. The blue-tinged body—my heart jolts in my chest—only no, it's not _her_ it's Cheeka. Still a relief, and such one. Her waves of cyan hair lay in matted tangles about her, but I doubt any of us care: she the least. That tiny, tiny heart in her thin chest must beat so loudly: and beat it does, her pale cheeks flushed but flushed with life. What a thing... what a thing to see.

The world around us... there is color to it. A sky spilled over, opened and spreading its layers, its warmth. I raise a hand again: palm open, palm out. From somewhere in front of me a silhouette, a shadow spreads, and connected to the shadow are feet. Brown... feet. A light brown, a soft brown: was it darker by a little I'd think I'd be seeing things. Seeing a dead timburr walking toward us. But no, Burr was darker... but who could it be, then..?

When I pull my thumb aside from the figure, the head bears itself for me. Fluffy, with that curl above the eyes—the stricken sea-blue orbs. Just as scratched and matted as the rest of us. Red streaks like highlights, unnatural highlights, in the fur. Highlights that will melt away come rain. Such angles and fur, so tall and... and I almost wish... I didn't recognize that face so easily. It's... obvious, though. The soul behind the body—it's so obvious who he is. I swallow.

Closer he still comes. There is something in his eyes, something more than the strife and trial, something more than the battle, but he raises himself more than I can see. Even when I crane my neck back, then he'll turn, catch Vivi's eyes, go onto Kyo. If I move, it's like... he's hiding from me. A-Again.

Somehow I get the feeling this is a good thing.

If I saw his secret now... perhaps I would snap wide open... an open that could not be healed so easily... perhaps not fast enough before I find some... way to... end... my... w-we-well.

A good thing...

With a heaving sigh, he speaks: and I recognize the voice, too. Deep, throaty, low... sad. Soft. "Llana, there's... something I need to show you." Another breath. Deep, and long, and slow. I don't think he wants to tell me; at the same time he has to. "Just... Llana. I-I don't think... you all need to see... such a sight."

With a pleading question in his posture, murmurs float about the slowly-reuniting group. Small nods, affirmation. While they speak without speaking and think without thinking, I turn back and find scales a dirty yellow and smile soft and hard, a certain dunsparce by the side of the timburr. Pain. Like a claw, like a thorn, like any old stone just sharp enough for it, lines of pain have been gouged into that face. Painstakingly, brutally, mercilessly. Without a care.

Cough. Swallow. His eyes find mine. "Ah. Um... hey, Llana." Just a little smile, a little Bay smile. A small candle to hold in the darkness. "You know... Tim saved my life all kinds of times... just a little while ago. He's... very... good." Curt nod, and slowly he makes his way toward some of the others. I watch him...

Because he asked for me, and because they had no digressions, his hand meets my shoulder and he pulls me, just slowly, so tenderly, the way he came. I toss my head over my shoulder; they stand so sadly there. Grave faces cast in a new light... When Stella's purple orbs meet mine, her own feelings suck from her expression and she merely nods. Tells me without speaking: go.

Maybe they will wait for us, maybe they will begin to leave as well. Tim... I-I'm sure Tim will find them... so long as I want to when we go ourselves. What is it, I wonder, what is it he would like to show me? Already it's palpable in the air, in my head, that this is no such _good_ thing. This is no such _good_ news. Oh, no. If such would be... well.

Nervously I follow the timburr. By the way of the sun, his shadow constantly clashes over me. I don't... move... out of its way. My breathing is heavy, almost as heavy as... his. What sorts of thoughts... are going on in his head? When did he... when did his fur... his eyes... when did they come so... gentle? When did the color change? And his... claws... kept tucked in his hands... smaller, docile. Small like Burr's. Burr... I miss Burr. He was sweet, a little salty, mostly sweet.

Zoey's kind of like that too... ah. Zoey...

My feet find themselves nestled into a shoreline. The ocean waves, salty and divine, hungry, eat away at me. Waves and waves, waves of dread plow into my pale toes. And I stand. And I wait. Will I fall? Will I break? Will the ocean take me away and eat me alive? I don't... know yet. But it's coming. There is still something waiting ahead... waiting to see... if I...

I bump into Tim's halted figure. Rub my nose. "Ah, sorry," he mutters. Nervous as well. "Llana... I... I just wanted to tell you... that you..." Deep, deep breath. The exhale like the crashing of the wake into the sand, the one threatening to blow me away. "You can blame me. If you want. You can hate me, and hate me... and I would kill you, if you want me to, but I don't know if I can any longer.

"So I am sorry if that is what it comes to."

We stay like that. And then he moves on, his hand on my shoulder, and I dutifully follow.

The sun grows brighter, the further we come from my friends, from Stella, and the further we go to where Tim wants to show me. Grass rustles beneath our feet; not like a trail but like a sea: endless, serene. Alive. Such a strange feeling... after all this time. It grows brighter and brighter, as my throat goes tighter and tighter, for it's only more and more obvious to me and everyone the closer I come what he's about to show me.

So when we finally get there, I need a moment to stare at it before I fall to my knees. I... Ahh... I kind of... kind of knew... this was what... what it was... going to be... but... but it still... oh, it still hurts...

Her neck, I note, shaking, is but a flower, a ripe red flower splintered into fleshy petals. I want to touch the flower—no. I want to kill the flower, to stuff it all back together and will her cold, dead body to life again. Those eyes of hers have already been closed—by Tim. By Tim... A sharp bite of a laugh and I'm silent again, silently shaking.

Tim sits beside me. His body is warm.

Mine is cold. Like Zoey's.

But he is warm... very warm... and strangely, fur so soft and nice... strangely comforting. I'm not quite sure why, but I find myself plucking his hand and wiping at my snotty, teary face with it. So warm...

He tells me the story in pieces... with gaps. Gaps where we just sit there, quietly, me wiping indiscreetly at my messy face. He has yet to take his hand away... I'm grateful for that. Something as small and as stupid, as insignificant as that. I-I can't help it... it's a warm hand... a hand big and soft and gentle... strangely gentle, for a hand that has been used to end so many lives. But the warmth doesn't come from the victim's last moments: it's a different warmth... such a kind warmth... now.

"Zoey was jealous," he tells me, "but so was I." Because, he thinks, guessing with what he has and what he thinks would give more reason to the oshawott and her choices, because she wasn't very strong, and she thought she wasn't on "our level." Ours... But he was jealous too. Because she so easily squiggled herself into my heart, attached herself within my soul.

He tells me, though, this doesn't have much to do with what happened. Not his part, anyways. "She got it in her head that... she wasn't strong enough." That I... when I broke... and she couldn't put all my pieces together... that it made her weak. Unworthy. "Which is stupid. None of us could. It just... took _time_." But dear Zoey never thought that way, did she? No. Not quite.

So, Tim whispers, voice with disbelief, she took it upon herself that she had to do something, some sort of insane sacrifice to make it all... right again. He doesn't know. "As I... as I was getting better, I learned a bit... too late... that the monsters I'd created weren't on my side anymore."

She took the liberty to take his fatal hit. To die in... Tim's stead. And then he did realize, and he did have the time to keep Bay safe, himself safe, to stop the rest of them from coming through... but Zoey... the flower in her neck... that's all... it's all...

Zoey is gone now. She left for a place far, far away... that we have no access to. She left with Mina and Burr, he tells me. And they went to where everyone else is.

But it's not everyone... not _everyone_. Not... quite...

I'm shaking horribly now. It's very cold. I'm not sure where this came from, either, the chill and—instinct, I want to say, but I find myself shifting closer to the timburr, pulling his big, warm arm around me. My face is flushed. My face is a mess. Each moment only adds to this.

His is a bit of a mess too. Blushing.

I nearly laugh.

Somehow I find it in me to rise. It takes effort, and all kinds of time, but slowly and methodically I come to my feet. And I stand. Quietly with but a whisper I ask if we can bury her, and he nods. There is a strange look to his eye, a strange light in the hue. And I wonder...

Once Zoey is beneath the earth, safe and as snug as her body will ever be, and the earth is atop her, I ask if we can find flowers. But only a few. And I only want... red ones. Just... red. Peculiar in sight, but still very bright, he nods. And once that is done, I sigh.

It's incredible... how strongly... I don't want to leave her. Don't want to just... just _go_ , walk and leave her body to my back... even if—e-even if she's not even in there anymore... even if she has departed.

My dearly... beloved... Zoey.

Oh... gosh, I'm never going to say that to her. I'll never see her smile.

I'll never... k-kiss her. No... n-no, no... never. A-Ahaha... ahah... no...

Her neck will remain that disgusting red stain, and for a very long moment I'm overcome with the need to crush the flowers we planted above her. But I manage not to.

Because I'm at a loss, and I may lose myself if I stay much longer, I rasp, "What now?"

"Ah." Tim pauses. He's still near me. Very close. Very warm. "Now... I suppose we go home."

"Paradise?" I stare hopefully up toward him.

"Paradise," he agrees, nodding very slowly.

Somehow that adds to the ease in my heart. Maybe because then Mary will join us... and... I guess... we'll rebuild. Start again.

Maybe... we'll rebuild here. In the center of... of Truught. Like a heart, its veins will unfold and paths will always come back to here. And it won't... have to be like it was before we came. Yes. Maybe after we find Mary, and we search the world, and we find whoever else Marshall wants to check for, maybe we will rebuild here.

Then when we come back, I can say hello to Zoey again. But I... I... sh-shouldn't... stay for... t-t-too long. Tim isn't... an escape. I swallow. There is none. I don't quite know... what that means for us... but at least as of now... I'm here, and I can't leave. And for now that's hard, very hard, but I need to... learn and accept that.

Our walk back is slower. His hand is near mine, his hand now crusted over—in spots—with my snot. Just a little bit... Staring at his hand then causes my face to flush again... so I nearly do look away. Then, pulling my breath all into one knot, I snatch it with my own. And I hold it... just softly. I think he whispers my name, but I can't hear much over the pounding of blood rushing through my head.

It hurts... it hurts so unbelievably much, when I think about it—when I think about her. I get the feeling that this wound won't... ever fully heal. This open, airy, gaping hole crunched through my heart isn't going to stitch itself back together, and if it does, I doubt any of my dear friends will live long enough to see it. What... what a thought.

But... Tim... d-does... make it feel... a little better. He's... very... warm. And quiet. And soft. His fur, his voice... his feelings... are all very soft... and precious, in a way.

Did he really go... through all that change... all of that suffering... for me? Did he really change his entire lifestyle... struggle and cry through the birth of emotions, of a true and beating heart... all for me? Did he endure moments of morality, mortality, a deathly mortality he very nearly lost all so fast... everything for me? I want to ask him why, but when I glance toward him, at the strange peace in his gaze, I decide not to.

Like he feels me there, his light orbs flicker, find mine, stay.

He must have gone through so much... watching my best friend step in front of him... my dear, dear Zoey die for him... for _him..._ What a thought, oh, what a thought.

And we walk back.

Quietly, peacefully. My heart hurts... not a lot, but it hurts, when I move. But to stop would be suicide, a mental suicide that would break me. I-Irrevocably. I-I know this, I know this. So I let Tim move me, move me forward with each of his footsteps. And onward we go. Back where we were, with the open clearing in the midst of our world and other little things in little places. I find a certain white-furred creature having waited for us. Blushing, I try for a wave. She hurtles toward us. Gives Tim a very strong look as her paw clamps on the top of my head. But she doesn't move him, doesn't move me otherwise.

"Everyone else already left." She doesn't stop staring, intently, at the timburr. "But Marshall decided after they accost that swanna and check on other things they'll be back. For the best. For the better." She shakes her head fiercely, still staring. "If you'd like, you could still catch up to them, go with the rest of them. Even the kids went. Everyone else went. Well, except for me. And Herb. And There. But you get the idea."

Tim voids the stare of my dear Stella, peering into me. He stays like that. Then, "No... I think it would be better if we stayed. It's... quiet here. Well. Mostly." Stella bristles a bit at that. "But I think staying will give us enough time... to talk about things... as we wait for... er... um..." He blushes again. "Um... our _friends_... to arrive."

So I nod. Yes... I would... m-much rather that. Tim and I can talk, and Stella and There and Herb can talk too: all of us can. And we can stay here. But I—I won't go... to Zoey. At least, not by myself... W-Well I might in the middle of the night, thinking it to be a grand old thought but... I think I will be safe here. The lady who raised me like a mother, the boy she considered some form of a mate, their childhood friend, Tim, me.

Stella lets him take me a little further away. Her friends, standing about nearby, circle along back. They smile to my presence... perhaps relieved that I haven't shattered. I-I am too... that would be bad.

The timburr leads me just a little further. Still very much in sight of Stella, of There, of squeaky, bouncy Herb. A rock formation like stepping stones to a middle area, one big elevated chalk-white circle, stands in this place. The middle of this, I feel , will be where we... make our homes. There's a bit of a dip here, a comforting one. We just sit on the edge, next to each other.

And we do talk. About a lot of things. Quietly, with pauses, for we're both sore and worn.

About Deth, first. The strange litwick with the black eye and the white one, about how we knew Marshall once. He was different, darker. Like Marshall, perhaps, when he was a younger quagsire with younger thoughts and ideals. And we talk about Darkie, too. I remember, faintly, her seething ownership to the quagsire who no longer listens to her words. Perhaps it was _she_ who... yes. But she is no longer here, although her immortal creature is. Like Vivi's... brother... and the one he took with him—they are gone. Cobalion, Terrakion. Which of course brings thoughts to F, anecdotes of her moments. Vivi said... F didn't mind too much, dying. That there was someone she was waiting for anyways. That brings a bit of peace to the soul.

Hogwash. That is our past.

About Mina, then. And Burr. And Gaurdio, too. Their candle-like souls that led and showed Tim a light for a time in his black-lit life. He misses them. I miss them. They're safe, up there. Which is good in some ways. I ask Tim if he remembers Elijah—he mutters that he's sorry, he tells me he's sorry for killing not only Elijah but now Zoey, in a sense.

So I tell him it's okay.

I'm not sure where that comes from inside of me, but I tell him, and I mean it. Perhaps not completely, for there are cracks in me and pieces missing after everything that has gone on, but I mean it. And I do.

He asks me if I remember those rogues. Zello Hios, Meagan. If I think they're dead.  
Did you kill them?  
Actually, no.  
Then no, Tim, I don't think they're dead.

Somehow the conversation, after turns and twists, ends up about flowers. Tim doesn't quite have a favorite—he hasn't been living life long enough to tell the difference between them just yet. But he likes them. I tell him that roses are pretty... that sure, everyone likes them, but they are pretty.

Stella overhears. She adds that Tim is a big stupidhead. Tim tells her to stop. She doesn't. Herb suggests a very long name of a flower that starts with cryssomething; There smirks. I ask him why. He splutters something about not knowing flowers. Is a blackberry a flower? No, There, a blackberry is not a flower. Oh, he mumbles, dumbfounded.

Although, Herb adds, a lot of things start out as flowers. Some fruit do.

And some things end as flowers. Beautiful things... only _truly_ beautiful things end in such a way...

Many days pass without sign of our surviving friends. We pass the time talking. And walking, sometimes. But not too often. And never alone. We stay in the middle of the big stony area for the most part. Bring in moss, other soft things. Hay. If there is any—not much. Some. It takes time and our burning willpower for the stench of death and Darkie to begin its withering decay.

Now our home smells of Herb's sweet, succulent plants. And honeysuckle. Apparently it's her power—plants. And honeysuckle. She loves honeysuckle.

It also smells just slightly of farts.

I dare not ask which fluffy one contributed to that.

We celebrate in a soft and gentle way when they all arrive again—one big piece, plus Mary. The swanna hugs me, relieved, to see that I haven't fallen apart. As do the others. And they accept the timburr, too. He isn't much on hugs so they don't attack him in that form... but there are doffs of the head. There is understanding, and a warmth in such form.

Espa and Umbre, their relationship even further strengthened. They've decided they want to try again... to have more children. They share a knowing smile at this. Vivi has bolstered her light anew. She doesn't want to watch over Kyo now—but everyone. She's excited for the upcoming children in our big strange family. As is the keldeo, unwavering by her side. I wonder if he wishes to ask something to that effect with her...

Jen survived. Her amber orbs have lost their puffy redness; if anything, her largest difference is that she's cut her braids. Her beautiful, long, tidy braids: now a curly heap of silver, a bob about her head. Still beautiful... but different too. Dear, shaky Cheeka, while terrified of what is to come, all the same is ready to take on whatever comes our way next. Determined, brave... terrified and yet brave. Her pink orbs shine brightly. The children we do have, Nayomi and Olive, share a face of great responsibility placed upon their little shoulders. But laughter, too. They haven't been completely worn down... having lost their parents and their big brothers... they stand tall. And small. Together.

Bay came back brighter, as he always does. Perhaps in pain of our past events; he still glimmers, still hopes, still adheres to the world ahead of us, and to the day when he will join his best friend in the world above. And Marshall, as always, he leads. Knocked and hit however many times, he still takes the head of our group... and I think he always will.

Does he and Mary... does their little duo include us now? Tim and I—being... immortal to a sense. I wonder.

How will we all change in the extent of it all? It's... quite... a wonder.

But it's safer now. Here. It's not so scary. There are times when I want to hide from everything, when I feel like I really can't take another step and I really don't want to go on anymore... but those times pass. I think we all struggle with sleeping. It's... a given. But little by little, one by one, time after time, it gets easier. And harder... sometimes. And easier again.

So we talk. A lot.

I don't think I've ever been this close to anyone, in ways, not like this.

Stella stays with us. I doubt she wants to leave our side again. And with her stays the broomstick-brown There and the flower-loving Herb. Sometime her father—Chieftain—visits. I think he's proud of her.

Constantly the name of someone no longer with us will come up in conversation. Ember—F—Frigid Outspring... Zoey. Elijah, even still. After everything. Sometimes there is a pause after so, or a sour little grin. Or an exhale. Release.

In the end, it is finished. For better and for worse.

There comes a time, after we have settled, after the veins of the heart, this center of our world, have begun to spread—instead of a tiny pinpoint in a tiny town where nobody knew us. We meet new creatures. Some join. Some don't. Some hate us. We don't hate them. We just laugh. It's a pleasant little thing... and there comes a time after this as well.

Espa was pregnant with her next child—the first after Iuniper. They've deliberated on keeping names like that. After fruit, berries, plants, but changed a little. Maybe this one would be Shandelion. Or Marppil. Or Thorn—no, they said Torn. They liked that one. Or Shard, maybe, that sounds kind of like Torn. But nicer. Maybe a boy, Torn, and a girl, Shard.

It's at this time when his big and soft brown hand took mine, and he led me somewhere new. A hill—not very far away from our home—but far away enough. His eyes have grown softer. And his fur. And his feelings. He feels insulted quite easily—which admittedly some—like Stella—use against him. Nothing serious, never serious. They just like his reaction.

It is... a little cute.

There is still a shell of ruggedness to him, a shell that I think he will always have. I think I'll never lose my poor decision-making when it comes to me, when it comes to helping others. I'll be too rash, too hasty with it. Too ready for the wrong things.

But that's okay. Sometimes I like being reminded of those times. Only a little bit.

He'd asked me quietly something that must have been tugging on his heart for a very, very long time. The first feeling he'd ever had, a tiny seed buried into the dirt of his battered and practically nonexistent old heart... the one that caused him to kill Elijah, to try to kill the others. The feeling that brought him to where he is now, so gentle and sensitive.

And he asked me with that deep and sweet rumble of his, "Llana... I've said this so many times, and I will never stop, and I understand if you never will in turn, but...

"I love you. And I want to ask if... will you ever love me?"

It caught me in my heart. I was blushing... I was so nervous... everything picked up and swooned with this warmth inside of me...

I remember stuttering at first. He thought I was rejecting him. I wasn't. I don't think.

Why is it so easy to turn yes into no, and so hard to turn no into yes?

Because I meant yes. I meant yes, and I still do... I still mean it. Because I did... I fell in love with Tim. After everything, I did love him... and I do.

I think telling him that burned out the last of the darkness he was born with. The last of anything ever starting again... I think my yes ended it.

And I think that... no matter the ages and the time to come and go, no matter when everyone we know will grow old... I think that he's going to be there with me now. Like Deth and his wife... like Marshall and Mary... I think that whatever it is, this eternity, this world... I think I'll be happy. Even so.

I'll miss everyone, whenever that time comes, far and far into the future... but I'm thankful for it, too. For having them, having them to miss. I need to enjoy them until the future arrives... to enjoy all of it...

To smile, when I'm happy. To cry when I'm sad. And everything else in between... I want all of it.

I want this life... for everything I'll have in it. May we keep the monsters that took such hold upon this world never stomp us out again... or at least never fully. May there be candles that cannot go out, candles to brighten whatever things will come and go. May this heart, in the middle of the world, stay beating so long as we live here.

And may, most indubitably, may we _live_ through the rest of our days.

 **Wow... it took me awhile to finish. I guess because... you don't want to put the last word down... and then you don't wanna put down the _wrong_ last word... but I... hoof, I think I'm done TTwTT**

 **Well. Other than a couple of oneshots I have planned. One for Zoey, just a few chapters (she'll be dead in it, that means Burr and Mina and Elijah and everyone else screentime!) and I was thinking of some with just the characters and cute/random moments... we'll see.**

 **So... the end. Wow I've been through a lot to get this far, haha... Thank you for reading this far, and everything else. The end!**


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